


The Stone Keep of Her Heart

by DrakkHammer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bifer is a hero, Brotherly/Sisterly Love, F/M, Feels, Laughter, Love, Love between a brother and sister, Love between a man and a woman, Love of everyone for two darling boys, Making Love, Miscommunication, Romance, This is a love story, Thorin being Thorin, a little hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 80,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hather is a Ranger who stops by the town of Man for repairs to his weapons and finds both both friendship and love. It is the story of a romance, but also of the growing friendship between two males who have nothing in common except their love for Dis. Forgive the inclusion of the OC but there were no spare Rangers hanging around. </p><p>This is my love story for Dis, that she may never be alone again.</p><p>My Dis is based on this lovely portrait by Kotorigaro:  <a href="http://kotorigaro.deviantart.com/art/Dis-of-Erebor-376368174">Dis of Erebor</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dis).



It was a warm autumn day with a light breeze that didn’t reach as far into the forge as Thorin would have wished. He had changed his position as best he could, but most of the breeze still eluded him. The forge poured out the heat needed to soften the iron and let him hammer out the impurities and turn it into steel for the sword blade. He would have thought that after all these years he would have gotten used to it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and swung his hammer, ringing it down on the sword he was making, cursing autumn for reneging on its promise of cooler weather. 

He had established a reputation in the town of Man for the weapons he crafted, and yet he was still paid less than the Men who did work that was only half as good. Times were hard for everyone, but especially the Dwarrow folk. After Smaug had destroyed Erebor most of the population had gone to the Iron Mountain, but they could only take so many. The stronger refugees chose to follow Thror and his son Thrain on their trek to the Blue Mountains.

It was a long walk under poor conditions and the Blue Mountains did not have endless resources. They contained only iron and coal, not the gold and jewels that lay beneath the Lonely Mountain. The Dwarves already there did well enough with their mining, smithing and trade with the town people. They even traded with the Elves of the region, something Thorin refused to do, but the refugees were a strain on their resources and Thorin found himself taking work where he could find it. When he was finally able to open his own forge with his cousin Dwalin his lot improved a little. At least he no longer had to take abuse from someone who thought himself superior simply because he was taller. He would have preferred that he served only Dwarves, but times were hard for them all and to leave more work for his people Thorin chose to move his family to work in town and serve Men. It grated on him, but a king who did not sacrifice for his people was no king at all.

The iron of the blade had not been worked nearly enough to drive out the impurities. Thorin was hoping to be able to work it at least another day to give the blade better flexibility, but Men were always in a hurry. At this rate he should have just made the sword out of bronze as they did in the old days. It was fast and cheap, just the sort of thing his customers loved. He took a mouthful of water, rinsed his mouth and spat on the ground, then took a long drink and set the water jar down. He hated having to do inferior work and slammed the hammer down onto the glowing sword, taking his frustration out on the metal.

He was about to take another swing when a shadow blocked the light from the door. He looked up at a tall figure silhouetted there. He looked up out of the tops of his eyes. “Thorin at your service, may I help you?”

The figure gave a slight bow. “Master Dwarf, I have a knife that wants repair and I would purchase another if you have one available. I am told that you are the best weaponsmith in the area.”

Thorin nodded, accepting the compliment. “I do have several blades that are ready for sale.” He gestured to the various knives hanging on the wall. “Show me the knife that needs repair.”

The Man stepped forward and handed him a long knife hilt first. The hilt had shattered on the end and split downward. It had never been the best quality and Thorin could see a stress fracture in the tang. He handed the knife back. “I’m afraid I can’t repair this, it would not last you through another use, let alone a fight.” He had seen dried blood worked deeply into the handle and caught under the tang even though the knife had been cleaned. “I cannot take your money for a repair that will not hold up.”

The Man smiled and inclined his head acknowledging Thorin’s words. “I was told you are the best, and honest. It is good to find that the tales are true. Well, Master Thorin, it looks as if I will indeed avail myself of your services.” He reached in his boot and slid another knife out and set it on the edge of the forge. “I do need this one repaired and my sword sharpened.”

Thorin did not touch the blade. “Was the other one a test?”

The Man laughed. “Aye, that it was. This one,” he tapped the knife lying on the forge, “was passed down from my grandfather. It is very dear to me and I would not trust it to just anyone, nor my sword.”

Thorin reached down and picked it up. The hilt tingled against his palm and he almost dropped it. “Dragon’s tooth…” he whispered.

The Man nodded. “My grandfather battled a cold drake and won it.”

“Your grandfather fought a dragon?” 

“Aye, and nearly lost.” He looked at the knife and back at Thorin. “He paid with two fingers, part of the sight from his left eye – and the loss of five of his companions. Drakes are hard to kill.”

“But not impossible.” The Man did not note the slight hope in Thorin’s words.

“No, not impossible. You have to find their weakness and then find a way to exploit it.”

Before Thorin could ask further questions Kili came racing around the corner yelling, “Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!” and collided with the Man. He was knocked flat, all the wind gone from his lungs. His face screwed up and he was ready to burst into tears from the shock and the pain. Before he could work up a good protest he felt himself cradled in a strong arm and lifted impossibly high.

He looked up into the face of a smiling stranger who softly said, “I am terribly sorry for getting in your way, Young Master Dwarf. Can you ever forgive me?” Kili was so astonished that he forgot about crying.

Fili rounded the corner a moment later stopping just shy of repeating his brother’s accident. He looked up at the Man with utter astonishment. Thorin had stepped around the forge and was about to chastise his nephews, but the Man smiled at him.

“Do not concern yourself. I love children and this was an accident. This is turning into a banner day.” He ruffled Kili’s mass of curls. “I find an honest smith and get to meet two fine lads. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

He dropped to one knee and gently set Kili down. He looked at Fili. “So my fine fellow, what is your name?”

“I am Fili son of Fendri .” he said proudly.

The Man held out his hand and Fili took it looking serious. “I am pleased to meet you, Fili son of Fendri. I am Hather son of Haldor.”

Kili beamed up at him and announced, “I’m Kili.”

“Yes you are.” The Man rose and bowed solemnly to the two boys. “Master Fili and Master Kili, it is my pleasure to have made your acquaintance.”

“All right lads, that’s enough, stop bothering Mr. Hather.” Thorin stepped in and tried to steer his nephews behind the forge. He knew that if given half a chance Kili would pester the Man with endless questions. “Why have you come down here, where is your mother?”

“She had to go shopping, so she sent us to see you and Uncle Dwalin.” Fili said looking around for his other uncle and then turned back to Kili and the fascinating stranger.

Thorin groaned inwardly. While he didn’t mind watching the boys he had a sword to finish and repairs for a new customer who looked as if he could pay well. “Dwalin is working out back on a cracked axle and has no time for you now. I want you lads to play where I can see you and stay out of the street.” Kili had dashed in front of a cart two days ago and Thorin had thought sure he was going to be run over. The boy was irrepressible and would do whatever came into his mind without thinking of the consequences.

The Man spoke up. “I have a better idea if your uncle will permit it. I found some late peaches and have them in my saddlebag. I think this would be a very good day to sit in the shade and eat peaches, don’t you?” He looked up at Thorin who was now trying to calm Kili who was yelling “Peaches!” at the top of his lungs.

“Go,” Thorin said. “Eat peaches, but keep out of the road and stay where I can see you.”

Hather strode out to his horse, loosened the cinch and led him into the shade with the boys following. He tied the horse loosely so that he could graze a bit and pulled the peaches out of his saddlebag. He gave one to his horse and brought the rest over to the boys.

He handed the two biggest ones to Fili. “Take these to your uncles and come back out for yours.” That mission was accomplished before Hather could even seat Kili and himself in the shade. He gathered up the boys and the peaches and sat on the large rock that held the forge door open. They sat in the dirt on either side of him, cramming peaches into their mouths, the juice running down their chins. He watched them with a combination of amusement and horror. They were turning into a sticky mess. He hoped their mother wasn’t the fussy type.

Several peaches later Hather was attempting to clean peach juice from the boys and from himself. Kili was a talker and told Hather about everything he could think of, only some of which was intelligible. He was also a toucher, grabbing with sticky fingers every time he wanted to say something. After trying to fend him off for several minutes, Hather gave up and resigned himself to being a gooey mess. He’d volunteered to look after the boys and was having a great time, so what was a little peach juice between friends?

Kili had managed to trip and had coated both hands with a glue-like combination of peach juice and dirt. Hather led him to a horse trough and had gotten most of it off when he heard a noise behind him that sounded like a throat being cleared. 

Hather was still bent over the trough when he turned and came face to face with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. “I…uh…gave them peaches and they, well, they are kind of messy.”

“I’d say they are a lot messy.” Her eyes were sparkling merrily. “They were supposed to be with their uncle, how did you come to be in charge of them?”

“I needed some repair work done and he couldn’t very well finish the work he is currently doing so that he could get to mine and keep an eye on these two.” He reached out and snagged Kili just before he darted into the street. “I’m actually not sure any one person is up to keeping an eye on these two.”

She laughed heartily. “That is the truth. They keep me on my toes, always into something.”

Kili was pulling on her skirt and continued to tug until she acknowledged him. “Can Mister Hather come to dinner? Huh? Can he? He’s awful nice for a Man. He gived us peaches and has been telling us stories about dragons and Orcs.”

“Nothing too scary,” he hurriedly explained.

She waved away his worry. “They were weaned on such stories and always want to tell the worst ones at the table, the little heathens.”

It was Fili’s turn. “Can he come to dinner, mum? Kili and I will be good and I will do the dishes.”

She looked a little reluctant, but the boys were so excited that she gave in. “Well, it’s nothing special.”

He smiled. “Nothing special is my favorite meal. I’ve been traveling and eating my own cooking for far too long”

She took his hand. “In that case allow me to introduce myself. I am Dis, daughter of Thrain and sister to Thorin.” She gestured toward the forge.

He held out his hand and she took it, not sure what kind of greeting he expected. He squeezed her hand gently and gave a short bow. “I am Hather son of Haldor.”

As he bowed he noted that there was very little in her shopping basket. He released her hand as he `stood and said, “I will only come on one condition – that I can bring something.” Dis started to decline the offer but he persisted. “My last employer paid me mostly in provisions and I have more than I can eat in a week. It is only right that I share.”

Thorin had stopped work to listen. He wasn’t pleased that a Man was going to dine with them and even less pleased that he was providing food. He would have to speak to Dis about being too indulgent with her children.

Hather went over to his horse and flipped open the saddlebag, he peered in and nodded seemingly satisfied with what he found. When he turned he gestured at a large gray cloth bag that hung from the saddle. “That is a ham. Now I ask you what is one man going to do with a whole ham?”

At the mention of ham, Kili began tugging on the bag chanting, “Ham! Ham! Ham!”

His mother pulled him away, laughing. “Stop that or you will be wearing it instead of eating it.” She looked up at Hather. “I can’t take your whole ham.”

He smiled and said, “But you must or Kili will never forgive either of us.” He ruffled Fili’s hair. “I’ve taken a shine to the lads. They are good boys and they deserve good food, wouldn’t you say?”

Dis laughed. “It’s hard to argue with that. They are good boys. Come along then, let us get our booty back to the house.”

Hather boosted both boys into the saddle and led his horse alongside Dis. She noticed the animal’s limp. He nodded. “I thought it was a stone bruise but now I’m more inclined to think that it’s a sprain of some type. I will be finding a room here and rest him until he’s sound again.” They both laughed as they boys cheered at that news.

“Can you recommend a place to stay?”

She thought about it for a minute. “They say the rooms at The Pint are clean and for a little more brass you can get a box stall so that your horse can get off of that leg.”

He nodded in thanks. “I appreciate it. I will go there as soon as I’ve dropped off the…ham!” This statement was followed by shrieks from the boys. The horse bobbed his head in agreement. Ham was a good thing indeed.

Hather carried in the ham and set it on the kitchen table. He looked around. The rooms were small and the furnishings meager and old. Everything was pin clean and there was even a small bouquet of wildflowers on the table. They were getting by but not by much. He said, “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned he set his saddlebags on the table and proceeded to pull out riches. There was a sizeable round of sharp cheese and a smaller round of a smoked goat cheese. He pulled forth a long string of sausages that Kili immediately made a grab for, only to be foiled by his mother’s quicker reflexes. There was even a near dozen eggs, ten she counted, wrapped in straw and twine. And the last thing he produced to Fili’s delight was a small pot of honey.

Dis was astounded. “We can’t take all this. Surely you want to keep some for yourself.”

He laughed. “I’m alone, how am I going to eat all of this? I only took it because the man I worked for had no money but he did have quite a larder.”

“But you could sell it for gold and silver.” She was taken aback by his unexpected generosity.

“I have gold, Mistress Dis. I only took the job because the farmer’s stock was being harassed by a bear. It’s my job to keep the land safe, so I just did a little hunting and he insisted on paying me.”

Dis took the sausages away from Kili who had managed to reach them by standing tiptoe. “What do you mean it’s your job to keep the land safe?”

He bowed. “Hather of the Dúnedain at your service, ma’am.”

She couldn’t have been more astonished if he had suddenly sprouted wings and flapped out of the house. “You’re a Ranger?”

“Yes ma’am.” He heard a noise and looked down to see Fili staring up at him wide-eyed. He smiled down at him and Fili smiled back. “Although I usually hunt Orcs rather than bear.”

“Are there Orcs here, Mr. Hather?” the boy asked seriously. Kili didn’t like talks of Orcs and came to stand next to his big brother, taking his hand for security.

“I have not seen any. I am just passing through on my way to the Grey Havens.” He dropped to one knee and laid his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “If I see any Orcs I will take care of them, have no fear.” The boys smiled up at him and let their mother lead them into the kitchen.

Hather was sitting by the fire trying to answer all the boys’ questions about being a Ranger. He would not have thought that Dwarves would have paid them any attention, but apparently small boys everywhere were hungry for tales of heroic battles.

When Thorin came in Hather rose and nodded to him as he crossed the room and sat in his big chair by the fire. He had washed up and Hather could see a long thin burn on his forearm. “I hope that it was not my knife that caused it.” 

The Dwarf shook his head. “It was that shale cursed blade I’m working on for a Man who has less sense than a chicken. He thinks weapons can be created by magic and not hard work and steel. Always a rush." He leaned forward a bit and fixed the Ranger with a hard look. "Why are Men so willing to settle for poor quality if it can be delivered at speed?"

Hather shrugged. "It is also a question I have asked myself. I am a crafter of sorts and have had the same difficulty. Haste seems to drive them. Perhaps their short lives are the cause."

"You craft?" Thorin was interested in what a Dúnedain would make.

Hather held up his foot to display his high leather boot. Thorin held out his hand, so the Ranger slipped it off and handed it to him. He turned it over, inspecting it critically noting the hidden inner sheaths for knives, then handed it back. "Good work. It looks comfortable.”

Hather smiled at the compliment. "They are. You can't run for leagues if your feet hurt." He laughed and Thorin joined him. 

“What other items do you craft?”

The Ranger handed over his belt and knife sheaths for inspection. Thorin turned them thoughtfully, examining the stitching and shape. He traced the intricate pattern cut into the leather with the tip of his finger, remembering a time when every bit of leather that he owned had been this carefully worked. He reluctantly handed it back. “Who trained you? Your skill is beyond self-training.”

Hather slipped the belt around his waist and cinched it. “My father was the finest leatherworker in our village. He had amazing patience with a small boy who had more enthusiasm than skill. I had to make my hands learn to slow down and follow the leather -- not force it to follow me.”

“I didn’t know that Rangers had skills, well, other than being Rangers, that is.” Thorin lifted Kili into his lap, wincing a little as a small hand became tangled in a temple braid.

Hather smiled ruefully. “Well, if we want to eat we do. Skulking around killing Orcs and bogans doesn’t pay very much. Although some of us are in the employ of towns, or have patrons. My brother is also a metalsmith, but he works with gold and silver, something there is little call for these days. At least I can both eat and acquire leather at the same time. It makes for good efficiency.”

Thorin nodded and was silent. He remembered when his smithing had been to create jewelry and fine-work of gold and silver instead of hammering weapons out of steel. He stared into the fire, lost in memories. The silence was becoming heavy when Dis came out of the kitchen. "Where are Balin and Dwalin?" she asked, wiping her hands on an embroidered towel. 

Her brother waved dismissively. "They are working on the axle. The fool said he'd pay extra if it was done tomorrow. Balin told me he was going to go help and for you not to set them a place. They will be by tomorrow."

"I should take them a plate." she replied.

He raised his hand. "Don't trouble yourself. Balin said to tell you that they will take supper at the inn." He smiled. "I suspect it's as much to do with the need for ale after a long day as anything."

Dis shook her head in amusement and went back into the kitchen. Hather followed and before she could say anything he had gathered the handful of eating utensils and set the table. Thorin watched him for a minute and shook his head. It puzzled him that a Ranger would willingly do women's work, it also bothered him a bit that Dis had let him do it. Well, he had quite enough to do without helping in the kitchen as well. He did find it amusing when the Ranger was hastily dismissed when he tried to return for plates. 

Supper was slices of the ham done into a bake with potatoes and wild leeks. Thorin ate with gusto and little conversation. The boys were the opposite, pushing aside their vegetables and peppering the Ranger with questions until their mother intervened. 

"Hush now and allow Mr. Hather to eat in peace." She deftly scooped the marginalized vegetables back into the center of their plate and popped a spoonful into Kili's mouth when he opened it to ask another question. Hather burst out laughing and Thorin chuckled.

"I see you have remembered some of Mother's tricks." Her brother’s eyes were sparkling as he teased her.

"Yes, and I can remember that they never worked on you. Mother told me that getting you to eat was a challenge until your beard came in and then she couldn’t keep you full." 

Thorin smiled ruefully then looked at the boys. "And many a night I left the table without dessert, so listen to your mother." Fili groaned and dutifully spooned up the rest of his supper. Kili, however, continued to practice well-honed vegetable avoidance skills. His uncle noted that the application of big brown eyes and sweet smile had great effect when the lad didn’t want to do something. Someday they would not be enough, but meanwhile he had to admit that he was as much a victim as Dis, forgiving far too much and enjoying the boy’s sunny disposition.

After the dishes were cleared away (without the Ranger’s help, thank you very much) Dis came out with a small jar and spread salve on Thorin's burn. He thanked her and went over to the fire. He settled into his chair, lit his pipe and started to close his eyes and relax. He grudgingly opened them when Hather entered the room.

"Aren't you going to help with the dishes?" He had difficulty keeping contempt out of his voice.

"Mistress Dis would have none of it and shooed me out. A very strong woman, that."

Thorin almost said "Dwarf" to correct him, but remembered that Men almost never got their terminology right and simply settled with agreeing. "That she is and mind you, never make her mad."

Hather laughed, "I would imagine that she is formidable."

"You have no idea." Thorin chuckled as he remember ducking just last week when he had dared to complain that they were having squirrel stew for the third time that week. Had he been a bit slower he would have suffered the business end of her large wooden spoon.

The Ranger picked up his cloak. "Since everyone here is busy, would you join me for a pint or two? I'm buying." He grinned widely. "Not that I'm trying to get a better price on the knife..."

Thorin scowled. "My prices are fair." 

Hather gave him a long look. "Are you going to sit there and growl like a bear and make me go and drink all alone?"

"I'll get my cloak."


	2. Chapter 2

They walked along the deserted street. Hather looked around. It was just like every village of Men he had visited, houses put up without care for the most part, with the well-crafted one standing out like lilies in a briar patch. Thorin’s home was as ramshackle as the rest around him, but the yard was clean and a few flowers still struggled against the morning frosts. They may live among Men, but they had not lost their Dwarven sense of order.

"You pick where we go, you know this town." Hather said, nodding toward the torches lighting the few places that were open for business at this hour.

"Aye, that I do, lad. There's but two places where we won't risk getting our throat slit when we leave. The first is the inn where you are staying. It's nice enough, but the ale tastes like piss. The second has decent ale, but whores ply their trade there. They will leave me alone; they have no taste for Dwarves, or I for them, for that matter. But they may have an eye for you."

Hather scratched his head and then grinned. "I like whores." He looked at Thorin's lifted eyebrow. "Not in that way. Once they find that you will pay them to talk, they are a wealth of information. If you want to know about the town -- ask the working girls. Besides many of them are good women who have fallen on hard times." Thorin paused to look questioningly at him. "They only provide a service that is always in demand."

“You certainly have a different way of looking at things,” Thorin replied, thinking that the race of Men had a far more liberal take on morals than did Dwarrowfolk.

They entered the pub walked to the rear and slid into a booth of sorts. The barmaid arrived posthaste and smiled at them. "What'cha havin'?" She leaned over the better to show off truly spectacular breasts.

"Two pints of your best ale, love." Hather said smoothly, making eye contact. Thorin mentally gave him points for not staring lower as he himself was having a hard time ignoring her bounty.

"We ain't got anything but the best." She gave him a wink and soon returned with two acceptably large wooden tankards. 

Thorin took his and threw back a considerable amount with one swallow. Apparently being in the company of a Ranger was thirsty work. Hather gave her a coin and said, "Keep our mugs full, if you please." She nodded, gave a little courtesy and disappeared behind the counter to discuss the order with the owner.

"How much did you give her?"

"Enough to give you a hangover in the morning, Master Dwarf."

Thorin laughed heartily. "You haven't enough gold to do that, Ranger."

"You're on." Hather held out his hand and Thorin clasped it.

"Done." This might turn out to be a fun evening after all.

The first pint went down smoothly, the second a little more slowly. By the third Thorin had relaxed and was leaning against the back of the booth. "Rangers don't usually pass this way; we are too settled to need their services. Where was your journey taking you?"

"I have long wanted to see the Grey Havens and then travel on to Lond Daer. I thought that I may not have another opportunity."

Thorin took a long swallow and said, "Is there anything left to see in Lond Daer? I thought that it was destroyed long ago."

"My forefathers all but destroyed the forest and then had to deal with the wrath of the local population, but they learned from their errors and it's a thriving port again. I'm surprised that you do not know this." 

Thorin waved the statement off. "I do not concern myself with the affairs of Men."

"I can understand that, as I doubt that Men concern themselves with the affairs of Dwarves." He was about to elaborate when one of the working girls slid into the seat next to him.

She was a pretty little thing with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes...eyes that reminded him of the lady he'd met only this afternoon... He shook the thought off and smiled at her. "I have no need for more company tonight. My friend and I are doing some serious drinking."

She ran her hand slowly up his arm while giving Thorin a "drop dead" look. "Are you sure? My name is Lily and we could have a good time."

"I am certain that your love is as sweet as your name." He ignored Thorin who looked as if he was trying not to gag. Hather dug into his pouch and pulled forth some silver coins. "How many of you work tonight?"

Puzzled she said, "There are two of us, just Maggie and me."

He counted out two silver coins. "Here is a coin for each of you. Give one to Maggie and tell her that we do not wish to be disturbed, can you do that?"

Her eyes widened and she slid out of the booth. "Oh aye, I can do that." She gave a small courtesy and hurried back to join the other woman.

"That is money wasted,” Thorin snorted.

Hather shook his head. "I bought goodwill, something that can be valuable in an establishment like this." He drained his mug and held it aloft to catch the barmaid's eye.

The fourth pint went down slower still. Hather belched quietly, then asked Thorin, "How is it that a Dwarven weaponsmith plies his trade in a town of Men?"

"There is not enough work with my kin."

The Ranger leaned on the table and thought about it. "It would seem that you are doing well enough here and yet you live humbly."

"I provide for others as well." The ale had loosened his tongue and he said more than he normally would. "The drought has been hard on my kin and my people. Game is scarce and there is little market for our wares."

"Do you not trade with the Sindar? They appreciate a skilled craftsman."

"I would rather starve!" Thorin slammed his pint down, the ale sloshing over the top to puddle on the table. The barmaid started to come over and wipe it up, saw the look on Thorin's face and changed her mind.

"Have the Sindar done something to offend you?” the Ranger asked.

Thorin's look darkened and he took a deep breath. "Elves -- curse them all!" His voice was low and rolled like thunder, silencing conversation around them.

"That is a lot of hatred to carry around, Thorin," Hather said quietly

Thorin lowered his head and stared at the spilled ale. "It is my burden to carry. Elves gave us no aid when the dragon took Erebor. Had they even brought food or medicines they could have saved hundreds, but they abandoned us to our fate." The ale had loosened his tongue and his emotions. "I will never forgive! I will never forget!"

Hather looked at Thorin sitting there looking slightly drunk and thoroughly miserable. His memory clicked in. He'd been right -- Men didn't concern themselves with the affairs of Dwarves. He remembered hearing about a Dwarven city destroyed by a fire drake and how the king now lived in exile. He took another sip of ale and pondered how he had come to be sitting across the table from the King of Erebor. Before he could address that fact there was a crack of a hand on flesh and a woman's voice cried out.

Hather in one motion unclasped his cloak and was out of the booth before Thorin could blink. A disreputable looking man was glaring at Lily who had a handprint reddening the left side of her face. "Whores don't have no say in who they do and don't serve.” He took a threatening step toward her.

"This one does,” she said, backing up. He lunged at her and she adeptly avoided him while solidly planting her knee in his groin. He doubled over, one hand curling around his crotch to protect his bruised balls, the other grasping for Lily.

Hather crossed the room in three strides. He grabbed the man's wrist and held it firmly. "Let it go, friend."

"I ain't yer friend and I ain't lettin' no whore kick me in the balls and walk away!" He struggled to get his wrist free without success.

"You struck her and she fought back. You lose -- let it go." Hather's tone didn't leave any room for argument. His opponent begged to differ and attempted a left cross that grazed the Ranger's shoulder. Hather twisted his wrist hard and flipped him around pinning his arm behind his back. "Enough or I break it!"

Thorin gave forth a groan that was remarkably similar to Lily’s victim. All he wanted was to sit quietly and get drunk. Why did that Mahal-cursed Ranger feel he had to meddle? There was the flash of a blade, a shriek from both women and Thorin launched himself out of the booth in pursuit of the Ranger. He hated bullies, but he really hated dead Rangers and did not want to have to try to explain to Dis why their guest went and got himself killed while Thorin sat the fight out drinking. Lily's would-be paramour had friends -- large friends...three of them and they didn't look happy.

Thorin straight-armed the one wielding the knife. The blade skittered across the floor and he countered with a wild swing that missed completely. Thorin's fist slammed against his jaw, rocking him backward. 

Seeing that his friends were joining the fight, Lily’s assailant fought to get free, crying out as Hather forced his arm up until the shoulder joint popped. He screamed curses and pulled a hidden knife from his waistband. Maggie shouted a warning and Hather twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding the blade.

His friend, with blonde greasy hair hanging low enough to obscure his vision, leaped to his aid only to find his path blocked by Thorin. 

"Gerrout o'me way ye fucking Dwarf!"

Thorin's less than polite reply was a punch to the gut using his weight and muscles honed at the forge. The blond flew backwards into another table, knocking over the man who sat behind it, slopping ale over his companions. Two of them rose as one and came at Thorin. The third grabbed the party crasher, brained him with his tankard, sending him reeling into the lads standing at the bar cheering the combatants on. Finding themselves suddenly under attack they gleefully joined the fight.

Thorin deftly avoided the charge. He was a trained warrior where these were merely Men and drunk at that. He eluded them, catching one a glancing blow that spun him into three men who had been mere spectators until this point. One of them grabbed the wretch who had hit their table and entertained himself by pounding him unconscious. The others headed for Thorin. 

He looked at Hather who was still struggling with Lily’s attacker. Thorin thought that four Men against one Dwarven warrior was steep, but not terrible, odds. This many was far more than he'd bargained on. He fetched the first one a kick in the shins that introduced him to the steel toe of Thorin's boot. He went down, but almost immediately rose hopping around screaming curses and threats. Thorin ducked a clumsy blow, cursing the Ranger under his breath. He started this and now seemed to be leaving Thorin on his own.

Hather looked over and realized that the "intervention" had escalated dramatically, placing Thorin in danger. He gave up trying not to damage his partner too badly and slung him away just far enough to drive home several hard kidney punches, dropping him to his knees. Hather shoved him away and turned to assist Thorin. His opponent struggled to his feet, drawing a wicked-looking blade from his belt. He'd only taken two steps when the Maggie slid a chair in front of him, sending him down in a tangle and Lily raced up and cracked a heavy wine jug across his temple. He stayed down this time. The Ranger marked the silver coins as money well spent.

The second Man ran straight into Thorin's fist. He heard a knuckle pop, but ignored it, whirling sideways to drive an elbow into an inviting belly and stamped down on the Man's foot. He received a ringing fist to the side of his face and then disappeared under four of them. The Dwarf rammed his forehead into the one directly on top of him and was rewarded by the satisfying sound of a nose breaking. One of the other Men grabbed Thorin's hair and pounded his head on the floor. He roared in anger. Cursing in Khuzdul he grabbed his attacker's wrist and twisted it until it snapped. The remaining Man drove a fist into Thorin's belly, but hampered as he was by a lack of space there was little force behind the blow. 

The others were getting in each other's way and not all the punches were reaching their intended target. Thorin had no maneuvering room, but he had his strength. He gave a mighty heave, freeing his right leg enough to drive a steel-toed boot into soft flesh, lightening the pile by one. He took another blow to the face, this one splitting his lower lip.

He was preparing to receive worse when the weight on top of him was suddenly lighter as a near giant of a Man grabbed two of Thorin's assailants, lifted them high and cracked their heads together. One slumped to the floor unconscious, but the other made the unwise decision to fight back. The giant simply picked him up and flung him across the room to land sprawling across a table knocking it over, spilling the drinks sitting on it. With a roar of outrage the owners of the spilled ale picked up the thrown combatant and slung him back toward Thorin.

Hather reached The Dwarf in time to deflect the human, the giant being occupied with intimidating the drunks at the fallen table. The Man took a wild swing at him. "Cursed Dwarf lover!"

Hather countered with a right hook that slowed him down. The stench of his opponent washed over him nearly making the Ranger gag. He threw another punch as much to keep the Man away as anything else.

"At least he bathes!" He drove his fist into the Man’s abdomen hard knocking the wind out of his opponent. He drove his fist in again watching the Man slide to the floor. "Stay down, you stinking pile of rubbish."

Hather looked down at the seething heap of bodies atop Thorin. He grinned. "If I had known you wanted to take them all on I could have stayed in the booth." 

The response was an uncomplimentary burst of Khuzdul followed by the ejection of one of the Men as Thorin managed to plant his foot square in the Man's crotch and send him rolling away in search of his balls.

Hather reached down and grabbed the shirt of the one at the top of the heap and yanked. He pulled him up and planted a boot solidly under his ribs knocking him away from the Dwarf. The Man rolled over, looked up blearily, located the author of the kick and latched onto the Ranger's leg. He sank his teeth into Hather's calf only to be thwarted by the Ranger's high boots. He didn't seem to realize his mistake and continued to chew. Hather looked down at him, laughed and knocked him out with a handily placed pitcher. 

The other patrons upon seeing Thorin taken down had turned their ire on each other, flailing and kicking and biting -- impaired enough by drink that they were doing little damage. The girls, the barkeep and two Men were placing wagers, cheering on the giant whose main attack had shifted to hugging his opponent into unconsciousness.

Seeing that the fight had moved away from them Hather turned attention back to Thorin who was happily choking the life out of his remaining attacker. "I think he gives up, Thorin."

"Elf-shagging son of an Orc hit me." He tightened his grip and his victim turned a darker shade of puce.

"Satisfying though it may be to kill him, it's more trouble than it's worth."

Thorin pondered it for a moment and then let go. "You're probably right." He rolled the limp body off his chest, stood up and spit out a mouthful of blood onto the gasping Man's chest. Thorin took a step to the side, nearly over-balanced and then righted himself. He turned and watched in awe at the incredibly inefficient brawl at the bar. Thorin shook his head...Humans...

The barkeep, tired of the fight, said something to the giant, who dropped his current victim, strode over, grabbed Lily’s assailant and the knife wielder and dragged them bodily to the door. He hurled them into the street not being overly careful about missing the door jam on the way out. 

He turned back to the brawl and roared, "Siddown!"

Most of them, wisely, sat. The barkeep came out from behind the bar wielding a metal capped club and those who hadn't called a truce thought it the time to do so. 

Thorin's head had stopped swimming and without tilting his head he looked up at Hather. "I gotta piss."

The Ranger nodded. "Excellent idea. Lead on."

When they returned he followed Hather back to the booth. He'd barely seated himself when the giant of a Man came up carrying two tankards. He set one in front of both Hather and Thorin, then turned to the Dwarf and gave a small nod of respect.

"Thank you both for yer assistance to Miss Lily." He looked at her standing behind the bar and his expression softened. “If I'd a been here..."

Thorn started to wave it off and found his hand engulfed as it was taken and squeezed hard before being released. "I owe you doubly. You repaired me plow when tha’ one would have sold me a new one." He pointed to one of the Men Thorin had punched. "Yer an honest man and I thank ya." With that he made his way across the room. Lily met him and the two of them took a seat at a back booth.

Hather laughed. "Looks like you've made a friend and promoted a romance."

"You should have told him it was you and not me."

The Ranger shook his head. "I merely did what I was born to do." He smiled. "You had no reason to protect me or anyone and yet you did."

Thorin took a long swallow of his ale and smiled. "I couldn't risk losing a sale."

Hather threw back his head and roared with laughter. He slapped Thorin on the shoulder nearly making him spill his ale. "Two things that are a constant -- young love and a Dwarf's love of gold."

It was Thorin's turn to laugh. He drained his tankard and slammed it down bottom up.

The barmaid came over straightaway bearing four tankards and a wet cloth for Thorin's bleeding cheek and lip and a few coins. He looked quizzically at the surfeit of ale and the small pile of coins. She laughed. "A couple of lads made a bit a'brass on the outcome of that pileup and this is their way of thankin' ya. Its yer cut o'the profits."

Thorin and Hather looked toward the bar and two grinning Men lifted a hand in a salute. One had an eye fast swelling closed and the other had a rag wrapped around his right knuckles. The Ranger lifted his tankard as did Thorin and saluted the wounded entrepreneurs.

"Looks like you're making more friends." Hather observed, taking a deep swallow. Thorin only grunted in reply, but the Ranger thought he looked pleased with himself.

The barmaid had tarried. She looked at the silver star that was sitting on the table. "You're one o' them Rangers?" Her eyes were wide.

Hather nodded. 

She curtsied with more enthusiasm than grace and said, "We're much honored ta have yer business."

"I'm sorry for the damage." he replied.

"Weren't you who started it. I told me husband them wenches would be trouble." she jerked a thumb toward the women, who were consoling the winning gamblers.

It disheartened him to think they might be thrown out to a less safe place to ply their trade. "They're not the problem." He paused, and then continued, "Let it be known that they are under my protection. Perhaps it will help them attract less unwanted attention."

"Oh aye. That we have a Ranger keepin' an eye out..." She shook her head in amazement and hurried back to deliver the good news.

Thorin resisted the urge to bang his head on the table -- or better yet Hather's. He gave up trying to understand human thinking and took a long pull on his ale. Ah well, he'd never met a Man he couldn't ignore.

Several satisfying tankards later -- a few less rounds for the Ranger -- Thorin belched more or less politely. "I must go...home. I have...uh...work to on the morrow."

Hather belched somewhat less politely. "As do I. Bee trees won't raid themselves."

As Thorin headed for the door he turned, bid adieu with a sweep of his arm and launched himself out of the pub. He paused to get his bearings, allowing Hather to catch up. He looked up at the Ranger and blinked.

"Isn't it a pain in the arse to be that fekkin' tall?"

Hather looked down at him and grinned. "Isn't it a pain in the arse to be that fekkin' short?"

They burst out laughing and weaved their way down the deserted street. Feeling exceedingly full of himself Thorin began to sing and was pleased when Hather joined in by the second line.

_"Let it now be taught,_  
If a Dwarf/Man is as he ought,  
The ale will sing,  
Because drinking it is a wonderful thing." * 

And because they liked the sound of their voices so much they sang it again. And because neither of them could recall either the other verses or any other song they kept on singing it...all the way home.

Dis heard them coming down the street, their boisterous voices reaching her carried by the wind. She had been worried and then angry, but by the time Thorin crashed into the room supported more than a bit by Hather she was amused. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Thorin raise his voice in song. She took one look at him and her brows furrowed. "You've been fighting."

"Aye and winnin'." He laughed and handed her the coins. "Mebbe I should do this again."

She glared at Hather. "No, you absolutely will not! Look at you, the King Under the Mountain brawling like a commoner."

Hather raised his hand. "He's drunk more ale and still managed to walk home than anyone I've seen. He won against impossible odds." He paused for a moment to let his fogged brain process the rest of the thought. "He fought well and made his ancestors proud."

Dis groaned audibly. "Good night, Hather. Come into the kitchen, brother and let me tend to your face."

Dismissed, the Ranger bowed to Dis' retreating back and went back to his room at the inn. He lay awake for a long time his mind dwelling on the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning dawned far too early for either of them. Thorin put the pillow over his head and pretended that he was deaf when Dis called. Hather, feeling remorseful for the night's excesses, managed to roll groaning out of bed, pull on his clothes and dig in his pack for several packs of herbs. He also dug out a vial, uncorked it and took a healthy swig, shuddering at the bitter taste. He put them in a pouch and headed for Thorin's home wincing at the brilliance of the morning sun.

Dis met him at the door. She frowned, "For a Ranger you are a terrible influence."

He looked so contrite that she laughed. "I won't hold it against you. It's been long since I've heard him sing, even if he's less musical this morning and you don’t look as though you’ve escaped unscathed either."

He tried to shrug, but it ended in a groan. Smiling, she led him to the table where Hather shook the packages of herbs out of the pouch. "If you make a tea of these he will feel less of the effects. And have him take at least one spoonful of the primrose oil -- two if he will tolerate it."

"Tell him yourself. He's in the kitchen cursing the entire race of Men." She took the herbs. "I'll brew enough for two. I made ginger scones to help settle his stomach. You might want to have a few yourself."

When Hather entered the kitchen he found Thorin sitting with his right hand soaking in a bowl of cold water, the left holding a scone that he glared at as if it was responsible for his hangover. He looked up at the Ranger and nodded, wincing at the unwise motion.

Hather slid into a chair across from Thorin and took the spoon Dis offered. He pushed the spoon and bottle toward Thorin who eyed them suspiciously. "Take two spoonfuls -- it will settle your stomach."

Thorin shook his hand dry, showing off an impressively swollen knuckle, poured a spoonful and swallowed it, grimacing at the taste. He shoved both spoon and bottle back at the Ranger. Hather pushed them back across the counter.

"The warrior I fought alongside last night would drink the bottle dry and demand more."

Thorin muttered something uncomplimentary in Khuzdul and took a second spoonful. He grabbed the mug of tea that Dis sat before them both and nearly spat the contents onto the floor.

"Shards! Sister, are you trying to poison me?"

She jerked a thumb at Hather. "No, he is."

Hather grinned. "It's nothing but herbs for the morning after: centurary and willow bark. I allow they taste like shite, but they work." He drained his own mug, grimaced and then looked pointedly at Thorin.

Challenged, Thorin downed his mug, trying not to spit the bitter tea right back out. His stomach heaved once and then settled. He was entirely too old for wild nights and hangovers, such things were best left to the young and stupid.

"The willow bark will help with that knuckle, too. You should drink another cup of the tea at noon." He looked at Dis, who nodded. It would be made, delivered and drunk, of that he had no doubt.

He rose from the table, grabbing a couple of scones to stuff in his pouch. "Tell the lads that I rose too late to raid honey for them, but that I haven't forgotten my promise. I will be back later; there is something I have to do."

After he left Thorin turned to Dis, "I don't remember agreeing to adopt a Ranger, do you?"

He heard her laugh all the way to the other end of the house as she went to wake the boys.

It was early afternoon when Dis heard a tap at the door. She put aside her embroidery and opened it to find Hather standing there, a field-dressed buck draped across his shoulders. "Where do you want him?"

Dis was astounded. No one had ever gifted them with food, let alone an entire ham and now a whole deer. "I don't know what to say -- you are too generous."

He grinned. "Just say 'thank you' and show me where I can put him down, he's getting heavy."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, and bring him this way." She led him to the butchering area in the back. He hung the deer and drew his knife. Dis stopped him.

"I will take care of it." She is standing there looking possessive of both the deer and the table.

Hather bowed slightly a twinkle in his eyes. "Beautiful ladies do not belong butchering meat."

She put her hands on her hips. "I was cleaning and preparing deer before you were born."

He winced, but remained steadfast. "Be that as it may; I shot it and it is my responsibility to clean it."

The boys had arrived in time to witness the standoff. Their mother never lost an argument and they expected it to end no differently this time.

The twinkle vanished from Hather's eyes. When he spoke his voice was softer. He bowed his head slightly and his voice took on a deep soft tone. "Please milady, humor me in this. It would pain me to see you so employed. The stag is a gift to you and your family, let me make a whole of it and not see your hands stained with blood."

Dis would have laughed at his stiff formality if he had not been so serious. It had been long since anyone cared what her hands looked like or what work she did. They all had to pull their weight and some jobs were less desirable than others, but it mattered little as long as it was honest work. Her life of a princess was long behind her as were her days as a cherished wife. Hather's words and expression reminded her of both and she felt a pang of longing.

"As you wish.” Her words sounded harsher than she had intended. She turned to her astonished sons. "Go and tell Balin that there is venison to distribute. We will have a roast for supper."

"I will bring more honey tomorrow,” he called after them.

The boys looked back grinning and then with Fili holding Kili's hand they raced away to find Balin.

Dis was still standing by the butchering table wiping it down with water from the well. Hather tried not to stare at her, but found that his eyes would not obey his brain. Ever since he had looked into her eyes he had not wanted to be far from her side. Everything about her was different from the women he had grown up with and those he had desired. Somehow all those differences made her perfect.

She turned and he could see her face in profile. She had strong even features, a feminine mirror of Thorin's. Her short dark beard framed her jaw, the tangle of dark curls and waves of her long hair softening the line of her forehead. He had noted her beard and then forgotten about it, somehow it suited her. She was a handsome woman by anyone’s standards. She bent down and the long thin temple braids hung with silver beads brushed against her full breasts causing his breath to catch and his pulse to rise. 

Dis felt his gaze and stole a look out of the corner of her eye. She felt herself blush. She had never had a male look at her in this way. She and Fendri had loved one another, but both were aware that their union had been semi-arranged and was politically advantageous. She knew that he had loved her yet in all their time together he had never looked at her with such stark admiration. She had no idea what to make of it and fled into the house to busy herself with the embroidery. This is stupid, she told herself sharply. You've only just met and he's of the race of Men. Dwarrowfolk do not partner a second time. Do not disgrace yourself or your husband's memory. 

She forced herself to concentrate on the pattern, her needle flashing -- only to miss a stitch as her mind drifted to the color of his eyes. They were the same rich gold as amber, shaded by impossibly long lashes. She missed another stitch. Shards! 

Dis pulled her thoughts away from his eyes only to have them disobediently wander to dwell on the dark-gold fall of his hair and how he caught it back with a leather thong only to have strands escape to fall across his face. His well-trimmed beard looked soft and was of a length to be masculine yet not interfere with the draw of his bow. Unbidden the next thought was of the breadth of his shoulders tapering to a slim waist that should look wrong but somehow did not.

This time she stabbed herself with the needle. 

A light tap on the door made her nearly miss another stitch. Her customer was picky, so she carefully worked the stitch and went to the door. Hather was standing there hands still wet from washing up and he ran his fingers through his sandy hair pushing back a strand that had escaped the horsetail at the nape of his neck. His shirt was open showing the line of his neck and an impossibly smooth chest.

"It's ready to cut up. I wasn't sure what you wanted...” his voice trailed off as he looked into her eyes and lost his train of thought.

Dis smiled at him, ducking her head a little. "It needs to be in roasts. I hope you don't mind if we share it."

"Of course not." He paused suddenly unsure of himself. "I know I'm impossibly young by your standards, but I've lived off the land all of my life. Instead of moving on, I would stay and help provision your family for the winter." 

"We could never ask that of you. You stopped here to have your knife repaired. When it is done you can be on your way." She became uncharacteristically flustered. "I shall speak to Thorin about it."

"Perhaps you feel that you cannot ask, but I can offer freely. I have no ties and was passing through on a whim. It is long since I spent more than a fortnight in one place. To do so would be a welcome change."

"We shall speak of it after supper. Thorin and the others will decide."

He cocked his head. "Do your women always defer to the males, or is it just you?"

Fire kindled behind her eyes. "I defer to no one. Having a Ranger stay and to take him away from his duties is a decision that should be made by all."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He started to speak, but she held up her hand. "The discussion will go better on a full stomach -- which we won't have unless that deer is cut up.”

"Yes ma'am,” he said, following her around to the back of the house.

They made a surprisingly good team. She told him how she wanted it cut and he carved the meat with sure strokes, handing the chunks to her for wrapping in parchment. When they were done she went to the well and drew a pail of water to wash down the cutting table. Hather took it from her with a gentle easy motion. She allowed it, enjoying the feeling of having a strong male around to help with chores. She cautioned herself that it would not last, but it made the feeling no less sweet.

She sent him on his way so that she could concentrate enough to be able to prepare supper. She found herself humming while she was peeling potatoes. The thundering arrival of Fili and Kili kept her from dwelling on it further. The boy’s lively tale of a dustup between a merchant and a customer in the shop next to Balin’s was a welcome distraction.

The scent of roasting venison greeted Thorin even before his sister-sons came piling out of the door to meet him. Before he could ask Kili volunteered,

"Hather shotted a deer!" Kili delivered his message while running circles around Thorin, too excited to stand still.

"Shot," Thorin corrected automatically.

"He is going to get us honey tomorrow." Fili added. Kili went into his imitation of a whole hive of bees spinning happily around until he was dizzy enough to fall over in spite of Fili's attempts to stop him.

Chuckling at the boy's antics Thorin went around the house and entered the back entrance into the washroom. Dis was pouring a pan of boiling water into the large wash basin. She greeted him cheerfully, confirmed that the Ranger had indeed brought them a deer and then made her exit so that he could clean up.

Thorin stripped, poured cold water from the pitcher into the basin until it was the proper temperature and picked up the bar of soap Dis had scented with lavender. As he washed his mind was occupied by the events of the last two days. He had heard tales of the Rangers, a people nearly as secretive as the Dwarves. They came and went like shadows, but were respected and reputed to be mighty warriors when called upon. Once he stopped trying not to damage the limp axe who started the fight, Hather gave a pretty fair accounting of himself, he thought as he dried himself off,. Besides, anyone who provided a ham one night and venison the next could not be so easily dismissed.

He finished dressing and came out to find Balin and Dwalin sitting in the great-room. Kili was sitting on Dwalin's lap trying to braid his uncooperative beard while Fili perched on the arm of the chair. He had evidently been telling a tale. Knowing his cousin it would prominently feature dead Orcs and heroics. The complete opposite of his brother the merchant and scholar, Dwalin was the Dwarf you did not want to meet in the dark -- and the boys adored him.

"So," Dwalin said slowly sounding amused, "The lads have been telling us about your Ranger."

Thorin took his seat and leaned back, appreciating the soft cushion at his back. "He's not 'my’ Ranger."

Balin looked up and gave Thorin a surprised look. "Ah well then, no mind. But I’ll be guessing that there is quite a story behind those marks on yer face, laddie."

Before the boys could start demanding the story, there was a soft knock at the door. Fili ran to answer it and Hather stepped into the room. He unpinned his cloak and hung it on a peg next to the door. 

Dwalin rose and stepped over to meet him. The Ranger was nearly a foot taller, but Dwalin merely looked at him from the tops of his eyes. Hather had noticed Thorin doing the same and thought it a good trick to even the height difference. He looked at the Dwarf and nodded sociably.

"I am Hather son of Haldor, at your service."

Taking his cue from the Ranger he nodded instead of bowing more formally. "And I am Dwalin, son of Fundin, at yours."

Dwalin appeared to be assessing him. "I understand that you are a Ranger, one of the _Dúnedain_."

Hather nodded. "I am from Elu Bair in Arthedain."

Balin rose and joined them. Unlike his brother, he was smiling. "I am Balin, son of Fundin, also at your service.

The Ranger bowed in recognition of the introduction. "Brothers?"

"Oh aye, we look so much alike -- like two peas in a pod." Balin looked at Dwalin and grinned. Dwalin laughed so hard he nearly dropped Kili.

Having enjoyed his own joke he turned back to Hather. "Are you from the line of Isildur?"

The Ranger shook his head. "In a manner of speaking; my family is descended from Anárion, Isildur's brother. Poor Anárion, he died fighting Sauron, and no one remembers his name. Let that be a lesson -- if anyone is to die make sure it is your opponent.”

Dwalin burst out laughing and clapped him on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Aye laddie. I like the way you think. It may also be that you are the only Man from Arthedain who doesn't claim to be related to Isildur -- this alone sets you apart as honest.  
What say, Balin -- easier to find a virgin in a public house than an honest Man." His laugher nearly drowned out Dis' scolding at his language.

Hather laughed more at Dis' objections than at the thinly veiled insult. He finally said, "That's not quite true, Thorin met a couple last night." 

To his relief the brothers lost interest in him and began to query Thorin. Apparently Thorin hadn't been entirely forthcoming about the happenings in the pub when he’d talked to Dwalin at the forge. The conversation lasted over dinner, Dwalin, Balin and the boys wanting to hear every detail. Thorin warmed to the tale and told it with gusto, amusement and no little pride. Kings may not be supposed to brawl like commoners, but if they were thrust into one they were expected to give a good accounting -- not to mention bringing home some winnings. Hather was mentioned in passing, but Thorin wisely chose not to mention the "ladies."

Dis brought out dessert of fig tarts each topped with a dollop of honey. She had obviously spent time making them as each crust was carefully scalloped and each was baked to perfection. Hather stopped to admire his and quickly realized that food was not admired in this household -- it was consumed with great gusto and appreciation. 

“Aren’t you goin’ ta eat that, laddie?” Dwalin inquired, eyeing the tart, the remains of his pastry decorating his beard.

“Yes I am,” he said and Dwalin’s face fell. “But I’m not big on sweets, so I’d appreciate it if you took the other half...so that it doesn’t go to waste.”

The boys had inhaled theirs and were licking sticky honey from their fingers. Hather watched them and smiled. He finished his half of the tart and cleared his throat. “I...I have decided to stay and winter here.”

Balin’s eyebrow went up and he looked at Thorin who set down his mug and cocked his head, studying the Ranger.

“As I told Thorin, I was headed to Lindon to see the Grey Havens when my horse went lame. I needed a knife repaired as well and so met Thorin at his forge. My journey was for my own purposes. I have no business in Lindon aside from a desire to see a place about which I have heard many tales.” Thorin leaned slightly forward. Encouraged, he continued.

“My horse is quite sore and will require more than a few days’ rest. I have no wish to push on through winter and possible storms for so meager a purpose as curiosity. I feel that I may be of service here.” He bowed his head toward Thorin. “If you would permit it.”

“And if I did not?” Thorin asked, his gaze boring into the Ranger.

“Since I would not disobey the direct order of a King, I would be on my way when my horse is well enough.” Hather dropped his eyes and sat there feeling defeated.

“I am not your king,” Thorin said abruptly, his brows pulling low shadowing his eyes. 

The Ranger looked at him as if taking the measure of the king. He lifted his chin and then nodded curtly. “That is true. It is also true that this is your home and as such you are the ruler of it, am I not correct?” Thorin nodded slightly in agreement. “As the head of the house it matters very little if you do or do not hold an official title. If I chose to serve you and your family you are my lord.” He took a sip of tea and relaxed his shoulders, signaling surrender to Thorin’s authority. “Therefore I would not disobey the direct order of this particular king.”

“Well spoken,” Thorin said, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Satisfied that the Ranger was not likely to challenge him, Thorin nodded. He turned to Balin. “It would not hurt to have one of the _Dúnedain_ close at hand. A fortnight ago I repaired a sword for a traveler who swore that he had seen Orc sign only three day’s ride from here. They are getting bolder for some reason.”

Dwalin leaned over and grinned at Hather, a sight he found terrifying. “Well I would’na kick ya out. Anyone who could talk my stiff of a cousin in’ta carousin’ into the wee hours is all right by me. Might liven the place up a bit and Mahal knows we need that these days.”

The boys had been sitting quietly knowing better than to say anything when Thorin had “that” look on his face. They received the news enthusiastically and he would have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile in Dis’ eyes. She quieted the boys and had them help her clear the table, more as a ruse to get them into the kitchen where they got sticky hands and faces scrubbed.

After the table was cleared of dishes, Dis brought out the boy's study materials. Hather could see that they would much rather go into the great-room with the adults. Kili looked up at him with a silent plea. He couldn't take the boys away from their studies, but he could join them.

He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Kili. "What are you working on?"

Kili pulled his piece of slate around so that Hather could see the shakily scrawled runes. "Writin' 's'hard."

The Ranger nodded. "It is hard to make your hand do what your brain says." Both boys heartily agreed. He pulled the slate closer and picked up a piece of sharpened chalk. "Show me how to write. Be patient for I am but a Man and clumsy with writing." He looked up at Balin and winked. The conversation by the fire was forgotten in their eagerness to teach something to an adult. 

Khuzdul was forbidden to outsiders, but Balin didn’t think that learning a rune or two would cause any great damage. Freed from his duties as instructor, Balin had been quick to join Thorin and Dwalin by the fire where the telling of tales and the boasting became as thick as the smoke from their pipes.

Dis slid into a chair next to Fili and bent to help him practice writing sentences. She had a soft woolen shawl the same blue as her eyes wrapped around her shoulders. Her temple braids brushed the table, the small silver beads clicking softly as she moved. Hather tried to keep his eyes and his mind on the slate, but was not altogether successful.

For her part Dis was also distracted. She had never been in the company of a Man before and was finding that her preconceptions were not entirely true. He was overly bold in talking to her and she'd caught him looking at her several times, but he was far more polite than she had found Men in the town to be. It could be explained perhaps by his Númenórean heritage, or Dúnedain training. Whichever it was, she found it pleasing. Fili broke his chalk, pulling her attention back to the lesson. She sharpened another piece and corrected his grammar trying to focus on the runes.

Kili had all the coordination of a Dwarf after a half a keg of ale, but what he lacked in accuracy he made up for in enthusiasm. He liked having someone who knew less than he did and happily showed off his command of writing, getting astounding amounts of chalk on his face and relatively little on the slate. With Kili’s help -- or in spite of it -- by the end of the evening Hather could finally write some of his own name in Khuzdul, although Fili made it clear that he still thought there was room for improvement. 

Hather was struggling to memorize one of the more complicated runes when a motion from Dis caught his eye. He looked up to see her nod toward Kili who was sound asleep with his cheek pillowed on the slate. The Ranger smiled and rose silently. He bent down and scooped the sleeping child into his arms. Kili nuzzled against Hather's chest and fell back to sleep. 

Dis led the way, escorting a yawning Fili. She turned back the bed and he gently laid the child down. Kili was soft and warm and smelled of spices and slightly sour milk. Large hands that had slain Orcs and goblins covered him up as if he were spun glass, pulling the quilt up and tucking it in. He stood for a moment looking down at the little Dwarf as his brother slid into bed next to him. Dis blew out the candle and they left the room, silently closing the door behind them.

Hather took his leave after explaining what he intended to do in the morning. Thorin shook his head and warned him to take care as did Balin. Dwalin, however looked less concerned with his welfare and more concerned with his ability to bring back a satisfactory quantity of honey. Behind that scarred and rough exterior dwelled a small boy who loved his sweets. Hather found the thought comforting if not downright amusing.


	4. Chapter 4

Hather was up before dawn. He'd prepared his gear for the raid on the bee tree and all he had to do was gather it and headed out. Riding would have been easier, but Aldamir’s leg was still tender and he didn't want to risk it. The hive wasn't all that far. He would easily arrive before dawn. He drew his cloak around his shoulders against the chill.

When he got to the tree, he set the buckets down, gathered tinder and started a small fire. He then took the torch he'd crafted from a branch wrapped with rags. He dipped it in the cooking oil he'd gotten from the inn. It was old and nearly black from use and would smoke gloriously when lit. Once it was burning, he shoved it in the hole at the base of the tree and backed off a good way and lay flat. The torch produced a lot of smoke, dying out as the oil was consumed.

The bees were torpid from the early morning chill and made stupid by the smoke. A column of them exited out of the top of the tree and took off looking for the culprit. They went over his head in a cloud and vanished. Leaping to his feet he grabbed his hand axe, snatched up the buckets and raced over to the tree. There was a rotten spot at chest height that he hacked at sending splinters and chunks of tree flying. As he chopped he quickly realized that not all of the bees had taken flight. A few of the more surly ones had remained behind, probably hoping for vengeance. He easily swatted away several who were still drunk on the smoke but one stung him on the cheek before he was able to deflect it. Another went down his shirt and managed to sting him several times before he could squash it. Cursing, he ripped another chunk of rotted wood off and threw it to the ground.

When the opening was large enough he switched to his knife and carved out great chunks of honey comb. He made certain to leave plenty to see the bees through winter, stuffed a small bush he'd cut into the hole to protect the hive, snatched up the buckets and ran. 

He outran most of the recovering bees, taking only three more stings -- small payment, he thought, for so much honey. The creek wasn't far and he stopped to wash up. The stings on his arm and shoulder weren’t bad, the stingers having gotten snared in the cloth. The one on his face was painful and swelling quickly. He stripped off his shirt and looked ruefully at his chest where a large welt and two smaller ones showed the bee didn’t die easily. He sluiced cold water on his face in hopes of bringing the swelling down. It didn’t work terribly well, but at least it stopped aching. He dipped up a bit of cold water to put on his chest but the chill was harder to take than the stings, so he put his shirt and coat back on, picked up the buckets and headed back to town.

The boys spotted Hather and raced down the street to meet him. Fili was trying to hang onto Kili’s hand but it was impossible and he finally settled with just keeping up with his little brother. The Ranger stopped when they got close to him and set the buckets down.

“You can have a piece of honeycomb if you walk home quietly and stay out of the road.” 

Kili looked up at him, huge dark eyes serious as he promised. Fili quickly promised as well and Hather used the tip of his knife to break off two small-boy-sized pieces. They had never each had a piece of honeycomb to themselves and walked silently with him completely occupied with the treat. 

Dis met him in the yard, alerted by the boys’ yelling. She was astonished. “So much honey...” She saw the swelling on his face and frowned. “Come around this way, please.”

She directed him to the rear door into the washroom. She had him set the sticky buckets into the wash tub. She bade the boys stay outside with the remains of the honeycomb. She took Hather to the table and told him to sit there. He nodded in agreement and watched as she busied herself in the kitchen with a basin and a cloth. Presently she returned and set the basin in front of him. She soaked the cloth and then gently covered the swelling.

“Hold the cloth to the sting. It will draw out the swelling and help with the pain. I will be back in a few minutes.” 

He did as he was told and felt the swelling go down as the herbs worked their magic. He heard a heated discussion in the kitchen which seemed to end with a victory for Mum and a loss for two small boys who wanted more honey. He guessed that he had brought back at least 30 pounds, enough to satisfy them and even Dwalin for a while.

Dis returned and he removed the cloth. She was very matter of fact, but her hands were gentle as she cupped his chin to get a better look at the wound. “You are lucky it wasn’t closer to your eye." 

She opened a small pot and put a dab of the fragrant oil on her finger. She put a drop of the oil on the sting so delicately that she didn't even make contact with the skin. As she leaned over she brushed his shoulder, pressing on one of the other stings and he jumped involuntarily. She pulled back and gave him an accusatory look. He looked abashed.

"Take your shirt off." Her expression brooked no argument. 

He pulled his shirt over his head and sat there feeling like a child who had just been scolded. The stings on his shoulder and arm weren’t as bad because the cloth had pulled the stinger and poison sack out before it had a chance to be fully injected. The one on his chest was worse although it had stopped paining him until he moved his arm the wrong way, pulling the skin taut across it. He winced and Dis’ look softened.

“It looks like this one got caught under your shirt. It stung you three times in the same place.” 

He nodded. “I had my hands full and couldn’t get to it right away.”

She made a small sound of sympathy, wetting the cloth and gently laying the moistened cloth on the stings. She directed him to hold it in place, showing him how to hold his hand so as not to put pressure on the stings. 

She took a seat and looked up at him. “You know you didn’t have to do this.”

“Do what -- get stung?” He gave her a small smile and dropped his head as if embarrassed by his own poor attempt at humor.

“You didn’t have to go out and get honey.” Her voice was soft but serious. “You didn’t have to bring back a deer or give us a whole ham.”

He made a wry face. “If you have to give something then it’s not worth giving. It’s not a gift.”

“And why,” she asked, “should a stranger give us gifts?”

The corner of his mouth twisted into a tiny smile as he had no idea how to answer, but two small faces popped around the corner looking sticky and expectant. He looked at them and she saw where he looked. “That’s why. The two best reasons in the world.”

She laughed at them and at him sitting there with a goofy look on his face as he smiled at her boys. “You two, get back out into the yard and wash up. No more honey until after dinner. Now!”

They hesitated for a moment and then sprinted out into the back yard. The pause between their disappearance and the slam of the door told them both that another chunk of honey comb had been scored on the way through. 

“You like children.” It wasn’t a question.

He smiled as he dipped the cloth back into the water and replaced it on his chest. “No, I _love_ children.” He paused to listen to them playing in the yard. “To create life has to be the greatest miracle of all. “ 

“Those two will be the death of me,” she said smiling.

He shook his head. “No. They are the life of you.”

Dis nodded slowly and smiled. “You are right. I sometimes think my life began when Fili was born.” 

She heaved a sigh and turned back to Hather who was still sitting with the cold cloth held to his chest as if he was pledging something. He was looking toward the kitchen as if expecting the boys to return. He did not see her pause for a second as she looked at him, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted as she looked at his bare chest and shoulders. She forced herself to take a breath and pushed the confusion in her mind back into the shadows. She could see goose pimples rising on his arms and realized she’d completely forgotten about his stings. She felt a prickle of shame that she had been distracted.

Taking the cloth from his hand, she dabbed the healing oil on the stings. “It’s made from beeswax and herbs and oil…” she said needing words to fill the sudden void she felt.

“What is?”

“The ointment; beeswax has healing properties. It will help the swelling and the pain.” She felt like she was babbling but needed to distract herself from just having applied oil to his bare chest. She put the cork back into the top of the jar careful not to look at him.

He slid his shirt back on finding the pain greatly lessened. “It does feel better.” 

She kept her head down fussing with putting the cork back in the small pottery oil jar.

“Thank you, Dis.” His voice was low and soft. She looked up into his amber eyes and saw a smile there and something more that she couldn’t name...was afraid to name.

She rose and hurried into the kitchen, banging things around, taking out her confusion on the cookware. When the noise stopped Hather ventured into the kitchen and found a large pot on the stove half full of honey. Dis was standing at the counter carving the comb into small squares. "Treats," she said venturing a smile. He returned her smile, picked up a square and popped it in his mouth.

"I thought you weren't much for sweets."

"I'm not when they can be used for diplomacy." He chewed slowly, his and winked at her making her laugh.

"So you traded my tart for good will?"

"Only half of it.” He said smiling. “No bribery in the world is worth giving up the whole of one of your tarts, milady." 

She gave him a long look and shook her head. "Fetch a bucket of water from the well, please."

He bowed slightly. "Your wish is my command."

Dis was tempted to reply, but settled for raising an eyebrow. He took the hint, grabbed the pail and went out the door. The boys immediately set upon him.

"Mr. Hather, can we have more honey?" asked Fili politely. He was slightly less sticky than Kili, who was still sucking on his fingers.

Kili stood on no ceremony. He attacked Hather bodily, doing his best to shinny up the Ranger's leg. "Honeee!" Hather looked down at him, all big dark eyes, a wild tangle of hair and grin so bright it was blinding. The stings he'd taken were totally worth it.

He reached down and lifted Kili up only to be grabbed and thoroughly hugged, sticky fingers tangling in his hair. "You’re da honey-man! I wuv you!" The young Dwarf declared passionately.

Hather kissed Kili on his honey-sweet cheek. "And I love you, too."

Fili grabbed his shirt and he lifted him with his other arm. "I love you both -- even with sticky faces."

"You really do, don't you?" Dis' voice was soft with wonder.

He turned to face her and smiled. "They remind me of my little sister..." He buried his face in Kili's hair for a moment. When he turned back to Dis his smile was shaded with deep sorrow.

She knew without being told. "What happened?" 

"A fever." He sighed and then continued. "Nothing helped, not even the Teleri healer who was summoned could bring it down and she just ... burned out." His eyes filled and a tear slid down his cheek. Both boys tightened their grip on him and Kili snuggled under his chin both trying to comfort and be comforted.

He nuzzled the lad burying his face in the silken tangles. "She was so much like Kili -- all hugs and enthusiasm." He turned to Fili and smiled. "But she had your golden hair and blue eyes."

"I don't look like a girl." Fili said gravely.

Hather threw back his head and laughed. "No, Master Dwarf, you do not. You look like a fierce warrior." He lifted them both high, eliciting squeals and laughter.

“What was her name?” Dis asked, her own heart hurting. To bury a child was surely anyone’s greatest sorrow.

“Anarórë. It means “sunrise” for that is what she was.” His golden eyes went dark when he spoke her name. “We all thought the sun rose and set with her. When she passed it was as if all the light in the world went out.”

“Such a beautiful name,” Dis whispered. “I will remember her when I see the sun rise.” She meant it. Dawn would now be synonymous with a beautiful golden child taken far too early. She looked at her boys with a sudden desire to keep them safe always. No mother should ever have to bury her child.

Hather didn’t know what to say to such a promise. He got flustered and began talking to the boys. "And I was sent out for a pail of water that your mother needs to have if the honey is to be cleaned and made ready to eat." 

He set them down and bent to pick up the bucket, but Fili had it and was racing to the well with Kili in hot pursuit. If this was any indication Dis was going to have plenty of help with the honey. Kili was now racing around the yard with his arms outstretched yelling, “Beeezzzz!” While Fili chased him giggling wildly. They were riding the high of the sugar and pure boyish enthusiasm.

Hather watched with delight as the game of chase turned into a game of tag, the two of them burning off the sugar they’d consumed. When he came into the kitchen he found that the large pot of honey was now warming over the fire. "Why are you cooking it?"

“If you heat honey, the wax melts and floats to the surface so that I can skim it off to use other ways. It will also make it easier for me pick out any pupa that were in the combs. Heat doesn’t hurt it and it thins the honey to make it easier to pour into the containers.” She motioned to a number of pottery jars of various sizes sitting on the counter.

He shrugged. “I always just thought you ate the whole thing.”

“What about the pupa?” she asked archly.

He grinned wickedly. “Meat...” 

She threw the spoon at him; he caught it expertly and juggled it then lifted it impossibly high. “So I guess this means that you don’t want it back.”

Dis stretched out her hand. “Give me the spoon.”

“I think not.” He was charming and his smile was positively evil.

“Give me the spoon, Hather.” The look she gave him was somewhat less charming. She hated games of keep-away from the times Thorin and Frerin used to take her doll hostage. Hather had yet to learn that “never forgive -- never forget” was the Durin family motto.

He shook his head, his grin widening. “Say please.”

She walked over and looked up at the spoon far out of her reach. She looked at him, picked up a carving knife, smiled and then pointedly looked at his crotch. 

“Your spoon, Mistress Dwarf.” He presented it with a flourish. When you are beaten always lose with the best possible grace.

She was pleased that he was not a slow study. She nodded, put the knife down and went back to stirring the warming pot of honey completely ignoring him.

Defeated, he picked up a piece of honeycomb and took a bite. Impulsively he held out the rest close to her mouth. To both their surprise she took it. They stood slowly chewing the sweet wax aware that something had just passed between them, but unsure exactly what it was.

She was afraid to look at him. Three days ago she would have said she would never feel confused when in the presence of any male. Three days ago she would have said that she would never find any male attractive. Three days was far too short a time to sort out complex feelings and thoughts. She was ashamed of herself and yet exhilarated. She didn’t know what to do, so she stirred the honey.

Hather stole a glance at her unable to tell what she was thinking. He was stupidly impulsive. He had not realized what he was going to do until he did it. Sharing food was only done between family members … or lovers. He didn’t know what the customs were with the Dwarves, but he was certain that it was an intimate act for them as well from her response. 

He looked at Dis and discovered that he very much wanted to kiss her and taste the honey still glistening on her lips. He took a deep breath to settle himself, swallowed and said, “I will be going now. It has been a long day. I will take supper at the inn.”

He barely heard her reply, “As you wish.” as he clumsily barreled out the door.

The boys were sorry to see him leave, but they were still occupied with their game of tag and bid him goodbye when he made it plain that he really did have to go. 

Dis stirred the honey far harder than she should have, mixing the wax instead of separating it. She didn’t know what to think, or what to feel. She was aware that she was treading on unknown territory. As far as she knew no Dwarf woman had never had any sort of a relationship with a Man let alone the kind her thoughts kept slipping off to dwell upon. She had to steel herself so that she did not bring disgrace to her family, or to herself.

Hather went straight to the stable and gave Aldamir a fresh flake of hay. The stallion nibbled at it and then peered over the stall door at his master who was sitting disconsolately on a bale of straw with his back against the wall. 

He stabbed at the bale with his knife. “I am an idiot. I have to be the most moronic being ever born in Middle-earth.” He looked up at Aldamir who nodded his head in agreement. “She is the sister to a king. She is a Dwarf. She is…she is...amazing...” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Her brother is going to kill me. She is going to kill me. _Ilúvatar_ help me. I can’t stop thinking about her and wanting her and wanting her to want me.”

He leaned back, banging his head on the stall wall, startling the horse. Hather looked up at him and said, “You do realize that if Dwalin comes after me that you will have to find another source of apples.” Aldamir just snorted without pity. The Ranger leaned back and let out a long sigh. “I’m a dead man...”

Thorin was a bit surprised when Hather did not appear for supper. The arrival of Dwalin and Balin kept him from thinking about it overmuch. The boys missed the Ranger and told the tale about how much honey he’d gotten and how he’d gotten stung but was very brave. Dwalin nodded, his mind on the honey cakes he’d smelled baking. Thorin, being Thorin, thought that the honey had been procured because that’s what you do when you are in the presence of a king. His humble surroundings were a temporary inconvenience, nothing more. Balin, however, took notice.

While the boys were working on their lessons he watched Dis. She seemed unable to rest, flitting between the great room and the kitchen, sitting to assist Kili and then taking up her embroidery only to put it down. 

He followed her into the kitchen. “What is it, lass?” His voice was soft and his eyes gentle.

“Nothing. What makes you think there is anything?” she asked too quickly, fidgeting with a dish towel.

“The fact that you are in a dark kitchen tugging on a towel with no dishes to dry.” He smiled at her. “I’ve known you all your life, Dis. You are not yourself tonight and I think that there is a reason.”

She turned to try to walk past him, but he blocked her path. “I’m just over-tired, that’s all.”

“I think it’s more than that.” He tilted her chin up until he could see her eyes. “Don’t do anything foolish, but don’t pass up a chance to be happy either.”

Embarrassed she pushed past him. He laid a gentle hand on her arm. “You can always come to me, lass. Always.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next day was a busy one for them both. Hather cleaned and polished every bit of his gear and tended to Aldamir. He brushed the stallion until his coat shone like living flame. He made another poultice and sat with him as the horse ate his hay and then napped. He wished he could nap. He wished that he could do anything besides sit in a stable feeling like a fool.

For her part, Dis also kept her body occupied, if not her mind. Never had the house felt such an attack of cleaning. Rugs were beaten, bedding freshened, and everything straightened to her satisfaction. The ham was nearly gone and she wanted to put off cooking it but told herself that was silly and girlish. The honey went well with the scones she baked; if only the boys hadn’t joined Thorin in asking where the Ranger had gone. Balin kept his own council, smiling gently at her as she deflected the questions and hurried to clear the table.

Hather rose early and stretched to work out the kinks that come from having slept restlessly. There was nothing left to clean or polish. He slung his quiver over his back, shouldered his backpack, took up his bow, and went downstairs. He purchased a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese from the innkeeper and headed for the woods. He couldn’t do anything about the situation that he had so stupidly caused, but hunting might clear his mind.

The rabbits were almost too easy and he bagged three of them. He thanked them for their sacrifice, then cleaned them efficiently and tucked them into the waxed-leather game holder in his backpack. The drought had made forage scarce and he walked a long way without seeing deer sign. He did see a large bear, but avoided it as, without a horse, he had no way to deal with that much meat. 

He came upon a patch of wild blackberries that the bear had not yet found and picked all of the ripe ones, cursing softly as he pricked his fingers on the thorns. He allowed himself to eat only a few and stored the others in the pouch at his hip.

He ate his lunch by a small stream and followed it looking for deer tracks. He hadn’t gone far when he found a young buck too inexperienced to be afraid. He thanked the deer for providing them with meat and then got to work.

It was late afternoon when Dis heard the tap on the back door. When she opened it she found the backyard empty, but on the cutting table was a heap of fresh venison all neatly cut up and three dressed rabbits. At the end of the table was a small pouch when she opened it she found it full of ripe blackberries. She stood there looking at them. She could not remember the last time she tasted berries of any kind. She put one on her tongue, closed her eyes and savored its sweet-tartness. He risked the thorns to pick blackberries for her...and the boys. There weren’t enough to cook with so it would be their treat. She fastened the pouch to her apron and went in to get a pan to put the meat in. Dwarf males were strange -- Men were even stranger. The thought made her smile.

She came into the house and gathered the boys. “I have a treat for you. Hather brought us some blackberries.” She divided them into three piles and they sat at the table and slowly ate the sweet/sour berries, laughing as Kili made faces over the new taste. If Fili ate them, he had to follow suite even if some of them puckered him so hard he sneezed. 

No one but Balin questioned the venison roast that made its appearance at dinner. The Ranger was still absent, but he was very much present in the conversation.

“Did Hather say why he has stayed away?” Thorin asked Dis as she was bringing in a plate of roasted vegetables. 

She nearly dropped the plate, and then hurriedly set it down. “He has been … busy.”

Balin nodded. “I believe I heard him say that he planned to do some scouting. With Orcs in the area he must have felt the need to make sure the area is safe.”

Dis breathed a sigh of relief as both Thorin and Dwalin nodded, content with the explanation. Thorin speared a chunk of venison and paused. “I knew it would be good to have a Ranger here. They are usually more secretive, but no matter. The more his presence is known the safer we all are.”

Dwalin wedged his food into his cheek the better to talk around it. “True enough, and it doesn’t hurt that he provisions us.” He swept his hand to indicate the others. “T’would appear that the tales of Rangers being excellent hunters are true. And I hear he’s not half bad in a fight either.” Thorin winced and Dwalin slammed his fist down on the table in appreciation of his own joke.

Thorin looked ruefully at his still-swollen knuckle. “I will take my hammer with me next time since it appears that the jaws of Men are as hard as an anvil.” 

Dwalin lifted his mug to that while Dis shook her head. “No more fighting -- any of you. How are we to set an example? It will come to naught if you go about brawling.“ She pointed a finger at Dwalin. “And that goes double for you...you...old rounder.” He gave her an astonished look and then threw back his head and laughed so hard he nearly choked.

Balin was chuckling as he raised his mug. “Here’s to Rangers to keep us safe and to behaving ourselves at the pub.”

Thorin was laughing as he met the toast, and then laughed even harder to see the boys mimic the adults, needing two hands to hold their mugs high. “Here’s to us all. May we keep the peace and our tempers.”

Balin followed Dis into the kitchen. “He was here today.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “I didn’t see him though. I heard a knock on the door and when I got there the deer was on the table cut up.”

He put a hand on her shoulder and chuckled. “I'm given to understand that most Men court with flowers, but this Ranger brings meat.” He shook his head and laughed at her expression. “It’s not as romantic, but it is practical.”

“You stop it!” She swatted his shoulder. “Don’t say things like that. He’s not courting me. He has taken a shine to the boys.”

Balin’s look was so knowing that Dis was speechless. “And he likes children…”

She threw the dishtowel at him. “For the love of Mahal, stop this right now.”

“All right, lass I’ll stop. But you have to admit that as a suitor he certainly is superior to one you had...what was his name? Oh yes, Grim son of Slag.”

She laughed. “It was Gehrn son of Slaf as you well know.” She took dessert down from the cupboard and handed it to Balin. “I have to admit that I like your name for him better. Mahal, what a clot he was.” When she could stop giggling she followed him back to the table.

As the others ate she toyed with the pouch that hung on the inside of her apron. She hadn’t told Balin about the berries. As she readied herself for bed she took the pouch and set it on her nightstand. To her the blackberries were more precious than flowers, for gathering them took effort and risk of pain. She carefully removed the last berry and slid it into her mouth. It tasted like summer and autumn and love. She went to sleep with the taste of it still sweet in her mouth. 

When Hather came in from tending to Aldamir he found the innkeeper waiting for him. “I’ve got a message from that Dwarf blacksmith. He says to tell ya that yer knife is ready.”

He thanked him for relaying the message and resisted the urge to tell him that he had been talking to a king. He thought the better of it though. It probably would not go down well if they thought their blacksmith was above them. 

He put it off as long as possible and then walked over to Thorin’s forge. Thorin hailed him as he entered and he knew that Dis had kept her own council. He put on a smile and waited for the king to come out from behind the anvil.

Thorin went over to his workbench and unwrapped Hather’s knife. He handed it to him butt first and the Ranger took it, turning it in his hand, astonished that he could not see where it had been mended. 

“This is amazing craftsmanship.” He held it up to the light and smiled. “Really amazing. I never thought it would look like new.” He put it in his scabbard. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

Thorin laughed. “Well, paying me is a good start.”

Hather shook his head. “There isn’t enough gold in Middle-earth to pay for this kind of work.”

Thorin laughed again and held out his hand. Hather paid him the agreed upon price plus another few coins. 

“That’s more than I told you.” 

“And I got more than I bargained for. You said you charged fair prices. I pay fair prices. To make my grandfather’s knife like new was not part of our bargain and so I am paying for the extra work.” Hather was adamant. 

“So, I’m beaten by my own words.” Thorin said chuckling. “Well, since you are both over-paying me and seem to insist on dropping food on my doorstep, I will expect to see you at supper tonight. I would have you show that knife to my cousins. I wager you must be fair tired of inn food by now and ready for some of Dis’ cooking."

Hather smiled ruefully. “That I am.” He heaved a sigh that Thorin took for a comment on inn food, but was in reality relief that he wasn’t being stabbed with his own knife. “The innkeeper is no dab hand with cooking, although his stews are not bad.”

“See you at sundown, then.” With that Thorin turned back to his forge and Hather left almost as nervous as when he’d entered.

Dis found out about their extra guest when she brought lunch to Thorin and Dwalin. She went home a bundle of nerves and tried to expend her energy on planning the meal and what she would wear. She found it difficult to concentrate and the boys didn't make it any easier with two spats before lunch over who would play with what toy. She was getting irritated with them, but then remembered a little girl who would never again see the sunrise. She called the boys to her, hugged them hard and then sat them at the table for a lunch of the last bit of ham with scones and honey. 

Hather felt like he needed something to bring. He'd noticed a bouquet of flowers on the table the first time he was in Dis' house. There were no wild flowers to be found and he doubted that the few households that had blooms in their gardens would appreciate if he liberated them. If only he could find flowers as brilliant as the leaves now that frost had brought out their autumn colors. That thought made him pause; his mother had used sprays of slender branches for decoration. They were a poor gift for the daughter of a king, but better a poor gift than none at all.

When Fili opened the door for him he looked at the handful of colorful branches quizzically. "Whatcha got leaves for, Mr. Hather?

He was trying not to trip over Kili who had attached himself to the Ranger's leg like a barnacle. "They are for your mother." He bent to scoop Kili up and greeted a surprised Dis with the bouquet of slender branches in one hand and a squirming child in the other. 

“Mister Hather gots leaf-flowers.” Kili blurted happily.

Hather adjusted him and smiled at Dis. "These are for you."

She took the branches with a look of surprise. "Uh ... thanks." She held them tentatively, not sure what he expected her to do with them.

"My mother...she used to use autumn leaves for decoration. She loved the bright colors.” He looked at her with the expectancy of a child who hopes his gift will be acceptable.

She was touched that he would bring her something that his mother found special. "They are beautiful." she said smiling. "I will put them in water. Come on in, supper is nearly ready."

He started to say something and then paused. She looked at him expectantly. 

“You look lovely tonight...I mean...if you don’t mind me saying so.” He was blushing and smiling and trying not to be forward. She was wearing a dress that matched the color of her eyes. Her apron had blue and green embroidery that curved with the ample breasts it concealed. Her hair lay in soft ebony waves in a cascade half way down her back, a curl escaping the silver clasp in back to spiral across her forehead. She did look lovely.

Dis felt herself flush and dropped her eyes. She had taken extra pains with her appearance in hope that he would notice and now that he had she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She managed to stammer out a soft “thank you” and headed into the kitchen.

He followed her and watched as she reached for a pitcher in a higher cupboard. He reached up lifted it and handed her the pitcher. She took it and looked up at him. His heart was pounding and he felt the moment stretching on forever. He could see longing in her eyes and worry. She turned away, breaking the spell. Boldly, he took her hand, kissed the back of it tenderly and then let it fall to her side. Her eyes had gone dark and unreadable, he was afraid he saw the shimmer of tears. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and make everything all right. Instead he went into the great-room and took a seat by the fire. The boys came over and sat down next to him. 

Dis stood looking at the back of her hand for a long moment and then slowly went about arranging the branches in the pitcher. She had wanted his attention and now that she had it was unsure what to do. Angrily she brushed a tear away with the back of her hand. Stop acting like a child, she admonished herself. You are both grown. Stop telling yourself tales and just fix supper. She carried the pitcher of leaves out and set it on the middle of the table. He was teasing with the boys and they were laughing with him. She pushed the worries down and went back into the kitchen smiling.

Hather was regaling them with tales of fighting goblins in the Misty Mountains when Thorin came in. He'd washed up and wearily took his chair. The boys ran over to him climbing into his lap for a hug. He smiled at the Ranger. "Glad you came, lad. I really want to show Balin that knife of yours."

He barely had time to agree when there was a tap at the door and Balin and Dwalin entered. They hung their cloaks on pegs by the door and were immediately set upon by the boys. Hather smiled at how warmly they greeted one another. People told tales about Dwarves being hard and cold and even rumored they had been created from rock. He’d found that nothing could be farther from the truth. Thorin’s cousins came into the great-room, each bearing a giggling boy, and found seats close to the fire.

Thorin gestured. “Show Balin the knife, lad.”

Hather pulled it from the sheath and handed it to Balin hilt first. He took it and the moment his hand clasped around it he felt it. His eyes widened and he handed it back quickly. “What is it made from?”

Thorin smiled and gestured to Hather. “Tell them the knife’s story.”

When he was done, Balin sighed and looked wistful. “A dragon’s tooth. I never thought I’d live to see a dragon’s tooth, let alone a knife made from one.” He turned the knife over, holding it with both admiration and awe.

Balin and Dwalin both examined the knife again. Dwalin cradling it safely so that Fili and Kili could examine it as well. Dwalin hated to relinquish the knife. He handed it back reluctantly and said, “So they really can be killed.”

Hather nodded as he put the knife back on his belt. “Aye, but not easily. My grandfather said that many good warriors paid with their lives in the fight. Dragons do not die alone.”

Thorin rose and came to stand by the fire. He gazed at the flames for several minutes remembering the fires in Erebor. If one drake was slain then others could be as well. When it was time he would have his vengeance. The others sat absolutely silent watching him. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking.

Dwalin rose and put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “It will happen. When we can -- we will make it happen.”

He pulled his gaze away from the blaze and gave Dwalin a tiny smile. “I know. And I know I can count on you.” He laid his hand on top of Dwalin’s for a moment and relaxed a little. It was good to know that someone had his back.

There was a commotion at the door and it burst open, three Dwarves nearly tumbling into the house as they pushed through the door. They sorted themselves out and entered the room grinning only to nearly slide to a halt when they saw Hather standing by the fire.

“Well, bless me, who do we have here? The first Dwarf asked smiling up at Hather.

Thorin nodded in Hather’s direction. “This is the Ranger I was telling you about.”

Hather stepped forward and swept a bow to the three of them. “I am Hather, son of Haldor, of the Dúnedain at your service.”

The bow was returned. “I am Bofur son of Boldur.” He gestured to a portly Dwarf with flaming red hair and a long beard. “This is my brother, Bombur.” He gestured to another Dwarf who had been standing behind Bombur, “And this is our cousin, Bifur.”

Bombur bowed slightly, but instead of bowing Bifur began gesturing at Hather and talking rapidly while signing wildly with both hands.

Hather noted with some consternation that the shattered remains of an Orc axe was buried in Bifur’s forehead. He wanted to ask about it but since the owner of the axe was so agitated he felt that this was not the best time.

Both Bofur and Bombur were trying to placate the agitated Dwarf. “Now, now,” soothed Bofer. “He’s not likely to be in Thorin’s house if he’s not a friend, is he? 

Bifur wasn’t listening and took a threatening step toward Hather. He felt his leg grabbed and looked down to see a very small Dwarf looking up at him wide-eyed and worried. Kili’s eyes were filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks.

Fili stepped forward to get between Bifur and the Ranger. “Mr. Hather is our friend, Mr. Bifur. Please don’t be mad at him.” He was trying to be brave, but the quiver in his voice gave it away and went straight to Bifur’s heart.

The Dwarf dropped down on his knees and scooped both boys in for a hug. As he held them, his rage fled as swiftly as it had come. He looked up at Hather with clear dark eyes that seemed to really see him for the first time. He ventured a smile and nodded. Hather smiled and nodded back, relaxing his posture to appear as non-threating as possible. 

Hather bowed, his smile warming. “I am honored to meet such a great warrior as yourself. Please forgive me for startling you.”

Bifur signed and Fili translated. “He said that he’s glad to meet you too.”

There were more gestures and suddenly both boys squealed, their smiles returned as he dug in his pockets and brought forth two toys. They were identical carved ponies on wheels. As the boys spun them across the floor Hather could see that somehow they moved up and down as if they were running. When Kili got close, Hather knelt to examine the toy.

He looked up at Bifur and shook his head in wonder. “You have magic in your hands, Toymaker. I’ve never seen the like of these.”

Bifur seemed embarrassed, but Bofur laughed and clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “Our Bifur is always coming up with somethin’ genius for the wee ones. Maybe one day he’ll open a toy shop.”

“If I could get him to make more than just for the lads I could sell them, but I think he likes to see the smiles of the children himself.” Balin said.

“Yes, his toys are wonderful,” Thorin agreed. “Now come in, sit down and have a look at what Hather carries.”

The Ranger obligingly pulled out the dragon-tooth knife and passed it around to be admired and inspected. Everyone held it and weighed it then reluctantly passed it along. This time even Fili took a turn, careful to handle it hilt first as he had been taught.

“So you can really kill a dragon?” Bofur said questioningly. He shook his head. “I can’t imagine…”

“I can’t either,” Hather said. “I’d rather face a whole army of Orc than a dragon, but sometimes you have no choice. My grandfather didn’t. I guess that is when you find out what you are truly made of.”

“Oh aye, it would test the bravest man.” Bofer agreed. “I’d not like to see that gurt big thing in front of me for sure.” Then as if he felt he was being too serious. “Sure and if I saw one I’d be sendin’ in Bombur first just to take the edge off his appetite.”

Bombur obediently whacked him on the arm. “A fine brother you are. I’ll remember your cheek the next time I cook and it’ll be fewer scones for you.”

“I’m lucky to get any as it is,” Bofur joked back.

Thorin leaned back and sighed. It was good to have friends and family around. Life was hard, but they made it easier. He wished that the happy trio lived closer, but their work was in the mines of the Blue Mountains. They had come down with a delivery of coal for the forge and the stoves of Men. Soon they would be headed back laden with produce and fruit, meat too if available. He would not see them until the next delivery.

The boys had been busily comparing and playing with their new toys, but when they saw their mother come to the table carrying a platter they bolted for the table. Each took his seat quickly, Kili scrambling to climb first onto the chair and then onto the cushions that lifted him high enough to eat. He grinned triumphantly and hollered, “First!”

Dis laughed. Every meal it was a race and every meal his brother let him win. She ruffled Fili’s hair. She had such good boys. She remembered when Fili was Kili’s age they had had to give up the tradition of serving the king first. Fili, the little lion who looked so like his father, would not stand for someone getting their food first even if it was his Uncle Thorin. 

Thorin took his seat and looked quizzically at the spray of colorful leaves in the middle of the table. “Are we bringing the forest in nowadays, Dis?”

She made a huffing noise and said, “They are for decoration. Hather brought them and I think they are beautiful.”

Her tone brooked no denial, so Thorin merely nodded in agreement, although it seemed weird eating with a tree sprouting out of a pitcher on the table. The race of Men certainly had some peculiar ideas. A glance at Balin and Dwalin told him that they felt the same. Bifur, however, leaned forward and ran his fingers delicately over the branch closest to him. One leaf fell and he picked it up and examined it carefully before putting it next to his plate. He quickly signed something to Bofur who translated for Hather.

“He says he would never have thought of putting leaves on the table. He agrees with Dis that they are beautiful.” He’d said more that Bofur had not translated. He remembered when they played in the woods as children. Bofur remembered those times too. He was always glad when a bit of the past came back to his cousin. The axe had taken most of his memories, or at least hidden them so deeply that they only seemed to come back with a flash and then be gone again.

The rich brown venison stew smelled incredible and tasted even better than it smelled. Hather broke off a chunk of warm bread from the round loaf and fell to. He was glad that he didn’t have to tell stories at dinner. He wasn’t good at it and was always afraid he would say the wrong thing. 

He was not aware of it, but his presence had improved table manners greatly. Thorin and Balin were always quiet, Dwalin not so much, but the miners were apparently raised amid an extended family who fairly fought for their food. The Ranger’s presence had them using serving utensils, napkins and wonder of wonders, chewing with their mouths closed. 

Hather looked up and noticed Bifur watching him. He smiled and asked, “How came you by your wound? It must have been a mighty battle.”

He signed to Bofur, who said, “We were in a hunting party. There were but five of us and we suddenly found ourselves under attack. Whether the Orcs wanted the game or our heads we never knew.” 

Bifur signed quickly and his cousin nodded. “Yes, I agree, both probably. We lost one companion straight away and were cornered. We were not geared for battle, but Bifur had his boar spear and evened the odds. We managed to kill all but the last one.” 

He stopped and looked at his cousin sadly. “The Orc broke through and would have killed me if Bifur had not stepped in front of me and killed him. He paid a terrible price for my life.”

Bifur punched him gently in the shoulder and signed, speaking quickly in a low voice. Hather needed no translation to understand that he was being chastised for the way he told the story.

Hater stood abruptly, silencing the conversation. He raised his mug of ale. “I propose a toast to one of the greatest warriors it’s ever been my privilege to meet.”

The others joined him in standing, mugs held high. “To Bifur!”

He looked a little embarrassed but drank to his own health. When he thought about it, which wasn’t often, any battle you walked away from was one that you had won.

Dwalin lightened the mood by regaling them with the tale of the idiot who refused to believe that his wheel hub was on the verge of breaking. It broke down on his way home and he wanted Dwalin to come out and fix it. The Dwarf had asked him if he was to drag the wagon back his forge or simply carry the forge to the wagon on the other end of town. An argument ensued and as with all arguments with Dwalin -- he won. He would be paid extra for the work of removing the broken wheel, transporting it to the forge, repairing it and then replacing it.

“I charged him double!” Dwalin bellowed, slamming his fist onto the table. “And he was bloody glad to pay it.”

Thorin chuckled. He enjoyed Dwalin’s enthusiasm for storytelling and was glad that he and Dis had decided that his cousins should be permanent guests for meals. Having them there made it seem more like the old days and made the small house seem more like a home instead of a just place to live in. He watched his heirs, who were anything but dignified, as they raced to see who could finish eating first. Kili won but only by the dint of managing to wear half of it. Maneuvering a spoonful of stew accurately to his mouth would definitely take some more practice. Dis having birthed two fine sons took the pressure off of Thorin to marry. There were plenty of applicants, but when you have been loved for yourself, as he had once been, you have no time or patience for those who want you merely because you are king.

“How go things in the mine?” Balin asked.

Always perceptive, Bofur smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “With the drought times are harder. There’s less call for our wares and we can’t sell so dear. Those that don’t live so deep in the mountain and can farm a little are doing better, but not by much.”

Thorin looked distressed, but Bombur was quick to fill in, “No one is starving or going without. I know you don’t care for it, but we still trade with the Sindar and their crops never seem to fail.”

Dis felt that the conversation had devolved far enough and brought out dessert; apple pies sweetened with honey. It vanished faster than the stew. Dwalin looked at the crumbs on his plate sadly until Dis whispered in his ear that she had made an extra for him to take home. He then turned his attention to Hather’s pie and was disappointed to find that the Ranger was going to eat it. Ah well, there would be pie for breakfast and that would have to suffice.

In spite of a bit of disapproval and hints that Men were a bit too free with doing women’s work, Hather carried the stew pot into the kitchen and placed it on the stove. He watched as Dis wiped faces and hands and then sent the boys out into the great room.

She put the washcloth down and turned to him. “Do you mistake me for one of your women?” Her voice was soft but there was an edge to it.

Hather shook his head. “No ma’am. I know you have different customs and I’m inexcusably stupid and clumsy. I just wanted you to know how special you are.” He turned to go.

She laid a hand on his wrist and stayed him. She didn’t know what to say, she just looked up at him. The Ranger reached down and gently smoothed her curl back then brushed her forehead with his lips. Before she could react he was gone from the kitchen, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

When Hather entered the great room he could see that they had instruments out and were tuning them. Balin and Dwalin had stringed instruments such as he had never seen. Bofur had produced a tin whistle and Bombur a small circular drum that reminded Hather of a tambour he’d once seen. Thorin had a golden harp resting in his lap and was turning a key at the top and testing the strings until he was satisfied. Only Bifur had no instrument but he was grinning at the prospect of a session. After all, every musician needs an audience.

Balin noticed the Ranger and said, “Have a seat, lad. It’s time we made a little music to lift the spirits.”

Hather raised a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the kitchen trying not to look at Dis. “Do you have two spoons I can borrow?

Surprised, she pulled out the eating utensils and he selected two beautifully carved wooden spoons of a size. He gave a flick of his wrist and suddenly they were beating out a complicated bit of rhythm. She looked up at him in amazement, but he was gone before she could say anything.

He came in and sat next to the fire. Dwalin stared the spoons but said nothing. Hather started a bit when Dis walked past him and took a seat. In her hand was a vitula, an instrument he’d only seen once before. She tucked under her chin and produced a long delicate bow. She drew her bow across the strings and the sweetness of the note sent a chill down his spine. How was he going to be able to concentrate on anything if every sound that blasted instrument made affected him this way?

The tune started up lively with Dwalin playing lead, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate as they coaxed a sweet tune out of the fiddle. Balin carried a tune that seemed different yet was the perfect counterpoint and Thorin filled in with his harp going from delicate whispers to strong cords. Bofur’s whistle trilled and danced as it followed the stringed instruments and Bombur was surprisingly deft with the hand drum. Dis made her instrument soar and sing as it wove all the other notes together into a harmony. When he felt he had the gist of the tune, Hather joined in, his spoons tapping out a sprightly rhythm that made them all grin. 

The boys came over and the Ranger entertained them by using their heads and arms as a striking surface. Both boys were laughing non-stop as they were “played.” Kili bent over so Hather could use his butt for a couple of licks which sent the lad to giggling so hard he fell over. Thorin forgot what he was playing and the tune faded into laughter, Dwalin’s bellow drowning out Kili’s squeals and giggles.

After they’d played a couple of tunes Hather gave in to Fili’s pleading and showed him how to play the spoons. Kili immediately threw a fit at not being included, so Dis brought out a wooden spoon for him and he started whacking out his own rhythm on any available surface. Bifur grabbed him, hugged him and sent him spinning on his merry way giggling until he fell over and lay like on his back like a laughing little turtle waving his spoon in the air.

The Dwarves were all laughing so hard they could barely play. Hather held Fili’s hand and directed him through the basics so that they managed to be a relatively decent percussion section. When things quieted down Bofur started to sing. He sang in Khuzdul, his voice a soft sweet tenor full of longing and mountain mist. After the first verse, Thorin joined in, his deep baritone adding the shadows. Dis joined them, her alto pure and sweet piercing the shadows with light. The boys stood silently listening to the song, one they must have heard many times before. Hather did not know the words but he knew the feeling behind them, of loss and pain and finally of hope and promise.

When the song ended there was a moment of silence and then Bofur’s whistle started a tune with a lively beat and everyone pounced on it as if eager to leave the shadows of the song behind. That was what was…this was what is. Dis danced her bow across the strings, kicking and whirling the music feeding it out to the others only to have it throw back at her more complicated making her work to keep up. They challenged each other, taking turns, pulling the tunes from deep within their souls. Hather sat with Bifur and the boys, silent in appreciation of true artistry. 

When the dueling ended they all turned to look at him. “Your turn,” Thorin said cheerfully.

“I can’t match that kind of playing.”

“And who asked ya to?” Bofur replied. He waved at the spoons. “You’re a dab had with them eatin’ utensils, so show us some more.”

Hather looked uncomfortable. “Well, they aren’t a solo instrument. In fact they aren’t an instrument at all.”

Dis leaned over and poked him. “Stop stalling.” She launched into a quick lively tune and he joined in, striking a rhythm and then improvised, changing beat and tone. He picked up the rhythm, challenging her. She responded, her bow flying over the strings. He leaned toward her and sped up again, the spoons flying down his thighs as he met her and skipped past, taunting her. 

She rose to her feet and leaned over Hather. She was grinning widely, blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. He rose to meet her and the two of them stood facing one another in a duel. Dis kicked it up another notch, her fingers flying over the strings, her bow flashing as she poured music into the room. He answered her with a complicated pattern, and then he slid beside her and used her bow arm as his striking surface. She faltered, he lost the rhythm and they ended the contest dissolved in laughter.

They played three more tunes as a group and then it was time to say goodnight. The boys were packed off to bed, Kili still clutching his spoon with one hand and waving “bye bye” with the other. Fili ran to everyone for a hug and then raced to bed clutching both of their precious horses.

Bofur examined the spoons and then handed them back to Hather. “Maybe next time we come you can teach me how to rattle those.”

“I’d like that,” the Ranger replied.

“I’d give it a try as well,” Bombur ventured.

Bifur quickly signed something to Bofur and waved in Bombur’s direction.

“He says you’re only good with forks?” His brother tried to look hurt but ended up nearly doubled over with laughter. 

Bofur smiled warmly. “We’ll be on our way. See you in the morning Thorin.” He went over to Dis and bowed. “As always thank you for your hospitality and for the music. You two certainly know how to play together.”

Dis maintained a straight face. “Yes, I believe we do.”

After they departed, Thorin was putting his harp away he smiled at Hather. “Interesting choice of instrument, that.”

The Ranger laughed. “Well I have a small drum, but it’s back at my room. I thought the spoons might be okay in a pinch.”

“Indeed, lad, indeed. It’s always nice to know that something you made has more than one use.”

“You are a carver?” Hather asked surprised that the huge hands that beat iron into swords could carve something as delicate as the spoons.

“Aye, but it pays nothing, so I just do what we need here.” He stood up and stretched. “It’s been a grand night. Don’t think that I don’t appreciate the hunting you’ve done for us. I have not had the time and neither has Dwalin. Balin is a fine merchant and scholar, but he’s not much in the field, if you get my drift.” He looked up at Balin who smiled and nodded in agreement.

Hather chuckled. “We all have our own talents. Thank you for inviting me; it has indeed been a grand night. Give my respects to your sister.”

Thorin nodded and bade the three of them good night. They walked to the end of the lane together and Dwalin surprised him by wrapping one powerful arm around his chest and giving him a comradely squeeze that nearly popped a rib. “Yer a Man of many talents. It’s good to hear everyone laugh again.” He clapped Hather on the back nearly felling him. “We’ll look for ya again tomorrow. I want to see how you play those spoons.”

Hather regained his breath and agreed. He bowed slightly and said, “Tomorrow night, gentlefolk,” sending Dwalin into a peal of laughter at having been called “gentle.”

Balin wished him a peaceful night. Hather wasn’t sure he was going to have one. He’d been even bolder this time. He was entering unknown territory and he didn’t think that his Ranger skills would do him much good there. He rolled his shoulder trying to get his ribs back into place. If he was going to be insane and fall in love why had he chosen a woman with a cousin who could fell an ox with one hand?

He lay awake looking at the stars. They held no answers, but there was permanence about them that he found comforting. He drifted off to sleep thinking about soft skin, ebony hair and eyes bluer than the brightest sky...and feeling like a complete idiot.

Dis tried not to think about what had happened. She busied herself with cleaning up, tucking the boys back in several times as they were too excited to settle down. Finally running out of things to do she prepared for bed. She blew out the candle and sat on the edge of the bed looking up at the stars. She could name the constellations but she could not name what she was feeling. A shooting star lit up briefly as it plunged to the atmosphere. Was it to wish upon, or an omen that the happiness she was feeling was doomed to be fleeting? Too tired to ponder it further, she lay down and pulled the covers up. Her dreams were alternately troubled and tender. It was not the best way to spend the night.

 

****

 

The days settled into a pattern for a fortnight. The Ranger would hunt almost every day, bringing enough game to share out to the other families. He brought sacks of acorns from the stand of white oaks for Dis to process into meal and flour. He came over nearly every evening for supper and played either his drum or the spoons. Dwalin with his huge hands had nearly as much trouble learning to play the spoons as Fili did with his small ones, but they had fun trying. Thorin, who had prized him only for bringing meat, admitted openly that he livened the end of the day. The king was finding it relaxing to stretch out, smoke his pipe and listen to stories he hadn’t heard a hundred times before or bring out the instruments and make some music.

Dis, however, found it less relaxing. Hather watched her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, but he made no overt moves, something she found disappointing. Something needed to happen, good or bad. She couldn’t go on walking on eggs forever. Her temper had become shorter of late, something that everyone noticed but no one mentioned.

Into the third week of Dis’ distemper Thorin himself took note. He quietly watched the interaction between his sister and Hather. One would watch the other when they thought they weren’t being observed. Thorin heaved a sigh. All good things come to an end, he supposed. He really liked the lad, but he loved his sister and his people more.

It was late and Thorin knew he should have gone to bed long ago. The fire had died to hot coals, darkening the room. The gloom matched his thoughts and he leaned back and drew on his pipe. The pipe weed was no comfort on this night and he knocked the ash out of the bowl and put it in its rack. Part of being a leader was being able to make hard decisions and deal with the repercussions of those decisions. It didn’t mean that he had to like what he did. He hadn’t asked to be born a prince, nor would he have chosen to lose both his father and grandfather so close together that it seemed that he had no time to prepare for the role he found himself thrust into. He heaved to his feet and went to bed, dreading the morning.

Thorin finished his breakfast, but did not leave for his forge. Dis was distracted by her own thoughts, but was surprised to come out of the kitchen and find him still sitting at the table.

“You are past your time, Thorin. Dwalin will be wondering where you are.”

He looked up at her and said, “I will not be here long enough to trouble him. Send the lads to visit Balin.” He turned his attention back to his empty mug, dismissing his sister.

Dis stood there frozen. She opened her mouth to say something, thought the better of it and left the room. Her mind in turmoil, she bundled up the boys, kissed them and hustled them out the door. They adored Balin and raced down the drive with Fili holding Kili’s hand urging him to still greater speed in case there should be a lemon drop with their name on it waiting for them when they arrived. 

Thorin was still sitting at the table when she returned and she stood in front of him trying to still her racing heart. “Why are you still here, Brother?”

He gestured at the chair next to him. “Sit down, Dis.” She stared at him making no move. “Please.”

She sat stiffly, hands in her lap. “What is it that you wish of me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then straightened his shoulders. “I fear the Ranger is becoming too fond of you.” He saw her freeze, her muscles tensing, her face unreadable. “And I fear you are becoming too fond of him.”

“Are you accusing me of doing something inappropriate?” Her words cut like a whip.

He shook his head. “No…not yet.”

She leaped to her feet. Her hand impacted against his cheek before either of them knew she was going to strike. Thorin’s head rocked back and he instinctively raised his fist to counter the blow. He dropped his hand instantly and sat immobile, the handprint glowing red on his cheek. 

Her face was a mix of surprise and anger. “How! Dare! You!”

He rose to his feet half expecting another blow. She was only an inch shorter and they faced each other eye to eye, both angry almost beyond bearing.

“He is a _Man_ , Dis. He has no place with us. He has no place with you!”

“You stayed back from your work to accuse me…to accuse Hather of some evil that is in your mind. You dishonor me.” Her hands were balled into fists and she had to force herself not to strike him again. That he was right in reading their desire for each other made it more painful. How could she have been so stupid and obvious? Why had she not kept her childish fantasies better hidden?

Thorin had become used to dealing with people who respected his authority and bowed to it unquestioningly. It had been many years since he and his sister had had a serious disagreement and he had stupidly forgotten that they shared the same iron will and pride. Had he really thought that he could tell her that she was wrong and that she would agree? 

He glared at her, but it was like looking into a mirror. He saw the pride, the stubbornness, the iron will of the Line of Durin. He knew then that he could not back her down. He dared not back down himself and his eyes bored into her in a contest of wills.

“I am grown and you may be my King, but you are not my keeper. If I choose a husband it will be because he is my One and neither you nor anyone on this earth will stop me. I make my own decisions based on what is right for myself and my sons. If I choose a Man, or an Elf or a Dwarf it will be because it is right, not because my brother approves.”

Thorin’s mind froze as it processed what she said, one statement standing out. “Fendri was not your One?”

Dis ignored him. She turned to go into the kitchen, and then paused at the door to look back at him. “Go to work, Brother, you have done all the damage here that you can.”

Thorin walked slowly to his smithy. The news that Fendri had not been her One was stunning. True, he had promoted the match, but he really had thought it was perfect. He stopped to pick up a stone and throw it at a tree, trying to relive some of his frustration. They used to be able to tell each other everything, but those days were long past. 

When her husband had been killed Dis had drawn inward, hoarding her pain and misery. He wanted to be there for her, but no longer knew how. Thorin was well trained to be a warrior and a king, but he no longer had any idea how to be a brother. He knew that he had closed himself off as a shield against his own pain. He had locked the door between them and now he had thrown away the key. 

He took his rage and frustration out on the steel, beating it until it was flat. Dwalin wisely chose not to mention the mark on Thorin’s cheek and to work in the back where he kept to himself. It was going to be a very long day.

Dis finished in the kitchen, pulled on her cape and stormed out the door. She had no idea where she was going; she just wanted to get away. The woods were still beautiful, the leaves lingering on the trees in the warm spell they were having. Just off the road she sat on a log and picked up a maple leaf. It was shaded from red to orange to yellow. How odd that leaves were their most beautiful when they were dying. She twirled it in her fingers trying to lose herself in the colors. At length it fell unnoticed from her fingers as the tears came and washed over her. 

 

Thorin came home to a dark and empty house. He went to Balin’s expecting to find Dis there, but Balin told him that he’d not seen her. The boys were clamoring for their mother and supper. Thorin hugged them and told them that it would be just a little bit longer.

“Laddie, do you not know where she is?” Balin’s gentle face was strained with worry.

Thorin shook his head. “I was stupid and arrogant this morning and she’s angry with me.”

“What did you do?” Balin laid a hand on Thorin’s shoulder trying to be understanding. They both knew that the older Dwarf often lost patience with his cousin’s bad temper and that he was likely to side with Dis. Thorin’s lips tugged into a rueful acceptance that Balin was usually right.

“It was what I said.” He stepped away. “Don’t sympathize with me. I spoke to her as the King when I should have talked to her as her brother. I am not very good at being either.”

“You are learning the hard way. You have no one to instruct you -- to show you the way except an old Dwarf who always tried to avoid the politics of the court. Never in the Line of Durin has a prince been thrust onto the throne so abruptly and under such duress.”

“Excuses.” Thorin shook his head. “Excuses and reasons and what should or shouldn’t have happened. It all falls to me and sometimes I question if I’m up to being what everyone needs.”

“What happened, laddie? What did you say to Dis?” Balin had a pot of mint tea sitting on the table and poured Thorin a cup. He tried to hand him the mug, but it was refused. 

“I…I accused her of being inappropriate with the Ranger.” He paused. “She slapped me. I deserved it. My approach…lacked tact.”

Balin nodded in agreement. “If you put it like that you earned that mark on your face. You are lucky she didn’t do worse.” Thorin nodded miserably. “Why are you concerned if she and the Ranger fancy one another? She has produced not one but two heirs to the throne – which is more than you have done.”

He looked down at Balin and shook his head. “Never in our history has one of the Dwarrowfolk taken a human as a mate.”

Balin’s eyes twinkled. “And you know that for sure, do you? No one…ever?”

“Well, none of the Line of Durin.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his growing headache. “It is not _done._

“Lad, we don’t live as our kin did. We no longer have a home or a throne to guard. You’re more a mayor than a monarch and that is no bad thing, it is the way of things right now. That may change in future but you have to live in the present. In the present your sister may have found a mate who will care for her and her sons. Would you deny her happiness rather than break a rule that only you are set on keeping?”

“It is a _law._ ” Thorin replied hotly. “And it is my responsibility to keep the law.”

Balin looked at him out of the tops of his eyes. “Is it a law, laddie? Is it written, or is it custom?” Thorin gave him a scathing look, but he ignored the king. “And if it is law, where is that law written…on paper that is now ash in a kingdom that is lost?”

Thorin winced. In truth he did not know if it was a written law. It was just the way it was and had been since Mahal had created the race of Dwarves. Dwarves simply do not break with tradition; it is what keeps their world spinning in the right direction.

“I will find her a Dwarf to partner with.” Thorin said stubbornly.

Balin let out a sigh. “Mahal, keep us from the stubbornness of the Line of Durin.”

He looked out the window. “It is nearly dark. You had best find out where that sister of yours is. I would have thought she would be here by now.”

The worry that had been nibbling at the back of Thorin’s mind sprang to the front. “She was not at home.” He grabbed his cloak. “If she comes here say anything you need, but keep her here.”

“Aye, I’ll keep her here and safe. You run on and see if she’s gone back home.” He turned to the boys. “Come along and let’s see what old Balin has that might make a fine supper for two good lads.” He ignored Kili’s suggestion of more lemon drops and herded them out of the shop to find something more nutritious.

He paused a moment to watch his cousin hurrying down the street. It was so like him to have allowed his temper and inflexibility to get in the way of his good judgment. It was the very thing that made him less than the great leader he could be. Balin shook his head. He sincerely hoped that Thorin’s hasty actions would not bring Dis to any harm.


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin nearly ran home and skidded to a stop at the end of the walk. The house was still dark. She was not there. He had no idea where to look. His first thought was to find the Ranger; surely that is where she would have gone. He was breathing heavily by the time he opened the door to the inn.

“I seek Hather, the Ranger.” He tried to look nonthreatening, but from the look on the innkeeper’s face he wasn’t too sure he’d succeeded.

“Not here. Not since this morning.”

A chill shuddered its way down Thorin’s spine. Surely she wouldn’t have gone with him leaving her sons behind. “When did he leave?”

The innkeeper leaned on his broom and thought. “I heard him go out early. It was barely light. He took his horse, so he isn’t near.”

Thorin breathed a sigh of relief. It was too early to have taken Dis. “Has a Dwarf female been by?”

A shake of the head. “No, I’da remembered that. Can’t help ya, mister.” He turned back to his sweeping, dismissing Thorin.

The relief that Thorin had felt when he found she had not left with Hather evaporated as he realized that he had no idea where she could be. Never in her life had she left her home. He had no idea where to look. He stood in the middle of the street feeling paralyzed. The worst scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the one before it. She was big for Dwarrowfolk but small compared to the race of Man. She would be defenseless.

He started down the street and stopped. He had no idea which way to go. He felt panic rising. He should go and call the others and start a search party. But then he would have to shame himself and risk shaming her by having to explain why they were needed. He wanted to beat something. Mostly he wanted to beat himself for being stubborn and stupid and…and…

His self-flagellation was interrupted by a gentle touch on his shoulder. He turned to find Lily standing next to him. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the fight. “What do you want?” It came out harsher than he’d intended.

She backed up a step and then held her ground. “Aye, you’d be Thorin, no mistake.” She gave him a look of disdain. “She said you’d be fair rude and have trouble keeping a civil tongue in yer head.”

“Who…who said?” Thorin was mystified. He wanted her to go away and let him get on with trying to find his sister.

“Mistress Dis, that’s who, you bloody bastid.” Her voice was sharp. “Said you accused her of…well…things no lady would do.”

“What?!” He was stunned by her tone and her words and her lack of respect for him.

“She’s fair cried her eyes out with no one to talk to but whores.” She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Maggie found her sobbing in the woods and brought her back to our room.”

Thorin straightened his shoulders. “Take me to her.” He was relieved that she was safe, but was eager to get her away from her present company.

“I know you think you are some kind of king, but you don’t give Lily Wheeler orders. Mistress Dis will be stayin’ right where she is until she wants to see you. If she don’t want to see you then she’s welcome to stay until she can work things out. The boys are welcome too.”

“Now you listen here,” he started.

“No, you’re the one who needs to do the listenin’ – something you appear to be right bad at. All for givin’ the orders, you are, being some kind of king and all. All for bein’ self-important and naught for caring for those what love you.” Thorin raised his hand as if he was about to interrupt her, but Lily was having none of it.

“She married who you wanted, she bore children that she says are your heirs, she cooks and cleans and sews like a drudge. Never a day off; never a word of praise. I told her whores have it better and we ain’t a princess. Now she thinks maybe she loves a man and he ain’t good enough ‘cause he ain’t no sawed-off, rude, arrogant bastid with royal blood.”

Thorin lost his temper. “Stop right there! She is my sister and you have no say. Take me to her right now!”

“Ov’r my dead body, mate. One thing women know how to do and that’s stick together. You ain’t getting’ near her until you can talk to her civil like.” 

Thorin glared at her, trying to get a handle on his temper. He’d never been talked to like this and his first reaction was to fight back against the verbal assault.

Lily returned his glare and straightened her posture. “You think that Ranger ain’t as good as her ‘cause he ain’t a Dwarf. You think us Tall-folk are trash. I can see it in your eyes. I see it in the tavern when you and your kin come in to drink. People say you are the best smith mebbe in the Blue Mountains, but you look down on us even though you ain’t nothin’ yerself. You’re so busy being full o’yerself you ain’t got room in that stone you call a heart for anyone else.”

Thorin winced. She’d hit a sore spot. Sometimes he did feel as if his heart had turned to stone. He’d seen so much death and pain at Erebor and then at the Battle of Azanulbizar that he’d deliberately hardened himself against feeling anything good or bad. He felt he had to or die himself. Her words cut deep -- the truth is a dreadful weapon.

His anger vanished to be replaced by regret and self-recrimination. He bowed his head. “It’s not like that.” His voice was low, softer than she had expected. Long experience with males had taught her that they frequently met insult with violence. She had been prepared for rage, but not for sorrow.

“She deserves the best and I cannot give it to her. The Ranger cannot give it to her either. He is a nomad; he has no house or kin. He will move on and take her heart with him.”

“No!” Lily’s voice snapped like a whip. “That is not your worry, King of the Dwarves. You with your heart of stone -- you’re afraid that she will go with him and take your heirs with her.” 

She saw the truth of her words reflected in his eyes. He feared losing her. He feared losing the boys. He was a king, but fear was a bitter poison in what was left of his heart. Fear for his people, for his kin and for himself. Lily’s blue eyes pierced him, stripping off pretense and posturing, cutting to the core. He was standing in the street talking to a whore who saw him far better than he ever saw himself.

“You are so afraid to love that you can’t bear to see it in anyone else.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, softening as she took pity on him. “Who did you lose?”

“Everyone.” His voice was as soft as hers, his eyes cast on the ground as if he wished that it could open and take him. “All gone. Dis and her sons are the only ones who remain.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her words were genuine and Thorin looked up at her startled. “Dis told me that you are all she has left. How is it that two people who have only each other can each be so alone?”

He shook his head his eyes reflecting his inner pain. “Pride. My pride. My stubbornness.”

“And she is your sister, so you don’t own it all. You and she are mirror images in that. The two of you need to stop dancin’ around what is in your hearts and tell the truth. There’s no rules for fallin’ in love. It makes fools outta all of us.”

“Rules.” His voice was harsh. “We live by rules.” He shrugged and didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Dwarrowfolk aren’t like…” He swept his arm outward inclusive of the town and Lily.

“No, you ain’t like us, thank The Maker. Hidebound is what you are. Couldn’t twitch off a fly if it bit you in the arse ‘less there’s a rule for it, I warrant.” Her tone had taken on a teasing quality. She was prodding him and enjoying it.

He chuckled ruefully. Rules. He was sick of rules. He’d had them beaten into him as a child and they gave his world constancy if not safety, but since his father had vanished they had been steadily crumbling away. He hated the uncertainty of his life now, the insecurity of never being truly positive if he was making the right decisions. He wasn’t like Balin, always able to see both sides of an argument. He was his father’s son and sometimes that didn’t feel good enough.

“Rules were made to be broken.”

“Yes. Yes they are.” His slight smile was rueful. “That is something I have forgotten. Sometimes you get so caught up in doing what is right that you forget how to do what is best.”

He stood looking up at the stars as if hoping they held answers. Lily stood silently watching him. At length he turned to her and tilted his head in recognition. “Forgive me. I feared that my sister had come to harm. And you are far too right about me.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, softening his expression to something almost handsome.

His unexpected admission that she was right caught Lily off guard. She found herself smiling at him. “Your sister is safe and warm and fed. If you can treat her kindly I will take you to her.”

He was embarrassed and exhausted. He found it too easy to retreat into the shell of formality. “I will accord her the respect she deserves. She is my sister and I care very much about her.” He ignored Lily’s snort. “Whatever you may think of me, I only want the best for her. I warrant that I will be a long time living down my actions this day and that is as it should be. I forget that the world does not bend to my will and that when it comes to those I love there are no absolutes.”

She glared at him. “You use words beyond my ken.”

Thorin cleared his throat. “I…I said, I was wrong.”

“Aye, tha’ll do as a start.” She laughed. “I expect you don’t say that very often.”

He shook his head. “Not often enough, I’m afraid.”

She turned and walked away. Thorin hurried to catch up. They walked in silence to the edge of town, where she turned and walked up to what looked like a shack that had been attached to a barn. She knocked twice and the door was opened for them.

The room was shabby but spotlessly clean. Dis was sitting up on a crude bed, her legs covered by a patchwork duvet. She saw him and her eyes widened, her body unconsciously pushing back against the pillows.

He bowed formally to the two women who had put themselves between himself and Dis. “I thank you deeply for caring for my sister, keeping her safe and for comforting her. I am also deeply sorry that she was in need of your assistance.”

When he stood upright his face softened into a gentle smile and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked first at them and then at Dis. “I was a fool and rash -- something I fear I will never completely outgrow. I make judgments too quickly and speak harshly when I feel strongly.” He bowed his head shamed as he admitted aloud his failings.

Dis rose and approached him. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You always want what you think is right and, yes, you sometimes are too rash and judge too harshly, but I always know you love me.” There were tears in her eyes. “I know that you will always be there for me, no matter what.”

“I am sorry for my words and actions today,” he said raggedly. “I shamed you when there was no call for it. I am a fool and I thought I had lost you.”

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. He had no words to tell her how afraid he had been when he didn’t know where she was. He held her for what seemed like forever. When he released her he looked at the women and saw misty eyes. He knew that even if he felt shame he had done the right thing. He didn’t know why the opinion of these women should be important to him, but it was. They were good people, ones he’d been too quick to judge. 

When he let go, Dis stepped back and touched the bruise she’d left on his cheek. “I am so sorry I struck you.”

He held her hand pressing it to his cheek and then turning it to kiss her palm. “I am sorry I deserved it.” His eyes twinkled. “I am just glad you did not use your fist.”

She laughed and was joined by the ladies. She turned to them and smiled warmly. “I have to go back home now, but I will see you again soon. I cannot begin to thank you both for your help and your friendship.” She hugged them in turn and waved as she went out the door. She saw that they did not expect her to return, but she knew she would. One did not make friends like these and then give them up so easily.

The walk to Balin’s was silent. Neither knew what to say to the other. Balin welcomed them. Dwalin and the boys were polishing off the last of a tin of biscuits and it took them a moment before they could respond. Thorin could see that Balin had not shared information with Dwalin, for which he was eternally grateful. Dwalin would just have to wonder about his mood and bruised face.

Balin sent home sandwiches wrapped in a napkin for their supper and wished them a good night. The boys were already sleepy and Dis prepared to tuck them in while he laid the fire in the fireplaces. She was surprised when Thorin finished lighting the fire in the boy’s room and then scooped Fili up, hugging him and bundling him into bed.

“But Uncle, this is Kili’s side of the bed,” he protested, scooting over. 

“Sorry there, lad. Have to get it right.” Thorin held the covers up to accommodate the move giving him a wry little smile that he didn’t even know what side of the bed his nephews slept on. He went around the bed and tucked Fili in. Kili wanted a hug, so he went around the bed to accommodate and found himself smothered in lemon-scented kissed and hugs. 

“Nite Unc’a. I wuv you!”” he whispered loud enough to make Thorin’s ear ring. “And don’t tell Mom we had lots’a lemon drops.”

“Our secret,” Thorin promised, giving him a kiss on his still slightly sticky cheek. “I love you too.”

He let Dis finish the tucking in process and went back into the great room. He had just sat down when he heard the knock at the door. He opened it to find a panicked Hather. 

“The innkeeper said you had been around looking for Dis. Is she here?” His voice held an edge of panic. “Is she safe?”

“Aye, she is here and she is well. ” Thorin said evenly, blocking the door with his body.

“What happened?” Hather started forward and then realized that Thorin had no intention of moving. He was barred from entering and he didn’t understand why.

“Not tonight.” Thorin’s look was both sad and firm. “Tomorrow we will talk. It has been a long day here. Everyone is safe and fine. Go back to your room and go to bed.”

Reluctantly Hather did as he was told. It was going to be a long night, but he would definitely be back in the morning and want the full story.

Long after Dis had gone to bed Thorin sat there smoking his pipe and watching the flames dance. It had been a long and stressful day. He had learned much about himself – far more than he wanted to know. His pipe had gone out and he knocked the ashes out into the fireplace and stretched. He put his pipe on its rack and went to bed. He hoped that tonight the dreams of dragons and flame and loss stayed locked away -- far away.


	8. Chapter 8

The mood during breakfast was lighter than it had been in a very long time. Thorin teased with the boys and played a game with Kili to get him to eat his porridge. Fili realized something had changed, but was too small to wonder about it. He simply enjoyed being able to talk to his uncle instead of having to eat quietly as he normally did. 

Dis packed a morning snack for him and Balin as well as lunch. He hugged her before he left. She smiled at him and he thought that something had changed, but he wasn’t sure what. Still, the fact that she was smiling gave him hope that the change was for the better. He wanted no repeat of yesterday.

Hather arrived shortly after Thorin left. He patted Fili on the head and headed for the kitchen. Without preamble he said, “I was worried about you last night. The innkeeper said Thorin had been by looking for you and then Thorin would not let me in to see you.” His words were all in a tumble and he was having a very had time not sweeping her into his arms.

She smiled at him. “My brother and I had a disagreement yesterday. It has passed. Would you like some breakfast?”

The Ranger was completely puzzled and it didn’t look as if he was going to be enlightened anytime soon. “If it is not too much trouble.”

Dis placed a bowl of porridge in front of him along with a mug of herb tea. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat across from him. Kili came up and handed him a carved wooden horse with one wheel missing. “My horse is lame,” he said somberly.

“I see that,” Hather replied. “I can make him a poultice or maybe I could just put his wheel back on. Do you have it?”

Kili had the errant wheel in his hand and laid it on the table, looking up hopefully. The pin holding the wheels together had come out. “Do you have the rest of it, the pin. I need that little metal piece that holds the wheel on.”

Kili’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember having seen the pin. In the end, he grabbed Fili and the two of them raced off to look for it.

Hather smiled indulgently. “Teamwork. I hope they find it, Thorin didn’t look in the mood to make another one when I was here last night.”

“His mood is better this morning. Changing your mind is very hard when you are of the Line of Durin.” She smiled a little, her gaze drifting past him, lost in a thought or a memory that he could not share.

“I have an errand to run this morning. Could you keep an eye on my boys while I’m gone?” 

She looked at him expectantly and he felt he had no choice but to agree. How much trouble could they get into in a short period of time? Then he remembered his own childhood and hoped they wouldn’t do something especially clever like accidentally setting each other on fire – he and his brother were grounded for a month after that fiasco.

“I brought over the materials for Kili’s drum. We’ll make it while you are gone. Don’t worry about us. I’ve got it covered.”

After telling the lads to behave, she threw on her cape and set out for Balin’s store. He was the one person in the world she felt she could talk with. He welcomed her and fixed them both a cup of chamomile tea. 

She took only a sip of hers before saying, “Thank you for your help yesterday. I am sorry for any trouble it caused you.”

“Lassie, it was no trouble, but you did have me worried when you vanished.”

She rested her hand on his. “I’m so sorry for that. I made some new friends and they kept me safe. I’m afraid one of them may have spoken rather harshly to Thorin though.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes that is what it takes to get him to listen to any beyond his own council. His father and grandfather were the same. First you apply a mattock between the eyes to get their attention and then maybe they would listen. It seems to be one of the less attractive traits of the Line of Durin.”

“One I have inherited, I’m afraid,” Dis said with a rueful smile. “I have something to ask you and I promise that I will listen.”

He nodded and leaned back. “I will answer you as honestly as I can.”

“How do you know when someone is your One?” She put the tea down and then picked it up again but didn’t drink. “Did you ever find yours?”

He nodded slowly. “You just know.” He put his hand to his chest. “You know it here.”

He put his tea down and looked at it sadly, but when he raised his head his eyes were smiling again. “I remember when I saw her. She was at the market and had tripped, dropping her basket. Apples all over, rolling like they were trying to escape. I helped her to pick them up and then when I looked at her I knew. She had hair of flame and eyes like the finest emeralds. If someone had asked my name I could not have told them. She smiled at me and I could feel my heart skip a beat. I walked her home and asked if I could court her.”

He fell silent. “Did she say yes?” Dis couldn’t wait for him to continue. “Did she agree to court with you? Just like that?”

He smiled. “Yes. Yes she did. I was surprised, but she knew I was her One as well.” His eyes sparkled with the memory. “Courting is only fun when you look back on it. When it is happening it is exhilarating, but terrifying. You worry every step if you are doing things right or not. I made her gifts. I brought her pretty things and treated her as if she was as fragile as an egg.” He chuckled.

Dis was on the edge of her chair. “And then what?”

“Miren was not the patient type. One day when I brought her yet another trinket she grabbed me and had her way with me.” He laughed to see the shock on Dis’ face. “Oh yes, Dwarven ladies can be most bold when they choose to be. They have always been the ones in charge of relationships and not all are shy little flowers. In fact, Miren was quite the rose -- thorns and all.

“She scared me to death, but once I stopped shaking I quite enjoyed myself.” He looked at Dis and burst out laughing. “Having a hard time picturing Old Balin tumbling with a lass? Well, I was not old then and neither was she. We were in love and would have taken on the whole world had it gotten in our way.”

“Were you wed?” Dis was almost afraid to ask. This was new information to her and she wasn’t sure how to treat it.

“Oh aye, we were wed and had many years together. We were not blessed with children, but not everyone is.” He took a sip of his cooling tea. “I miss her still, but we will be together again.”

“Will you not go to the Halls of Waiting?” Dis was puzzled. She thought every warrior wanted to go there once they left this life. It was an honor and much talked about.

He shook his head. “I am a fighter, but not a warrior...not in the sense that Dwalin and Thorin are. I am a merchant and a tradesman. If I never saw another battle it would be too soon. I want peace and my Miren and a place to sit and listen to music and smoke my pipe. I am afraid a hall full of disgruntled warriors clunking about being surly is not very peaceful.”

Dis found herself laughing at the image of warriors having to wait for a final battle. No, that would not be peaceful at all. 

“So what do you advise me to do?” she asked earnestly. “The waiting...”

“I can imagine that it is taking a toll. You have looked tired of late. Even Thorin mentioned it. He thought you were taking on too much needlework and harming your eyes.” Balin looked at her kindly. “You will have to make your own decision on how to handle it. I know Hather is in love with you. If Thorin was not blind to anything that doesn’t directly concern him he would see it too.”

“He noticed, but I do not think love had any part of what he was thinking.” She remembered his near accusation that she had disgraced herself and by association, him. 

“Your mother died far too soon. All that was taught to him was how to be a king. He never learned anything of love or romance, so he sees it all as black or white. Subtleties are lost on him. I have often wished that he would find his One so that he would not only be happier, but be a better king. He has yet to learn how to bend when it is necessary.”

“He is also afraid of losing you.”

“I know. I was talking to my friends about it yesterday. I’ve seen the way he has changed in the past two weeks. He cannot seem to take his eyes off of the boys. He never used to come into the kitchen and now he often does.”

“Would you leave with the Ranger?” There was no longer a smile in Balin’s eyes.

She shook her head. “Never. Never! And not for Thorin’s sake, but for my boys. They need their family. They need you and Dwalin and they need the rest of our people. If I cannot stay here, then he is not my One.”

Balin’s smile was back. He shook his head and laughed. “If you only knew how much you looked like your brother just then. Two peas in a pod you are.”

“That’s what Mother always said. She said her two dark children would be the end of her. I remember taking that too much to heart once and trying to bleach my hair.”

Balin threw back his head and laughed. “Is that what made you do it? You looked like you had a hay stack on your head.”

“I lost dessert for a month and had to wear a scarf for what seemed like forever. However do we survive our children?”

“It’s a mystery but we seem to make it through, mostly in one piece.”

He took a sip of tea and broke off a piece of scone. “Changing the subject -- Dwalin has noticed you and Hather, by the way.”

Dis started, nearly dropping her cup. “No.”

“Yes, but do not worry, he likes the lad and it amuses him to think the Ranger has a crush on you.”

“How will he feel when he learns it isn’t a crush?

“I think he will handle it the way he handles everything, with a lot of noise and a tankard of ale.” Balin shook his head. He and his brother were very different but they could not have been closer if they had been twins. 

“He has worried a lot about you these past few years. He is not the marrying kind or he might have courted you himself.” He smiled at her reaction. “I think he will be glad that you have someone to care for you and the boys. Whatever he feels, though, have no worries -- he will not come hunting for Hather with his axe.”

She laughed nervously. “I’d hope not. I do not even want to think about that.”

Balin laughed and handed her another scone. “Leave him to me. He is an old softie at heart, although he would die before admitting it.”

“Now you have to decide what you want to do and then stick to your plan. If Thorin gets in a temper about it, you let me handle him.” He rose. “You had probably best run along since leaving the lads with their uncle for too long isn’t the best idea.”

“They are actually with Hather.” Dis smiled. “Kili had a toy for him to mend, Fili is probably getting another lesson in playing the spoons. He also said something about making a little drum for Kili so that he has something to play too.”

“And he babysits...” Balin put his arm around her shoulders. “And so will I, lass. Feel free to send the lads over any time.” The latter statement was accompanied by a wink.

The walk home wasn’t very long, not nearly long enough for her to go over everything she had learned in the past half hour. She dawdled and then finally decided that she was the daughter of a king from the House of Durin and that she set her own rules.

When she got to the house, she took a deep breath and went in. They were all sitting by the fireplace laughing and seemed surprised to see her come in. To be honest, Fili looked a little disappointed. She came over and admired Kili’s new drum.

“I was telling Cousin Balin about your drum, Kili and how well you play the spoons, Fili. Why don’t you take them and show them to him. I know he’d love to see them and hear you play.”

They didn’t have to be told twice. Clutching their treasures they paused only long enough to grab their capes and then raced out the door and ran laughing down the path with Fili hanging on to Kili’s hand.

Hather stood up and faced Dis. “Did I do something wrong?” He was puzzled and not a little worried. The look on her face was so serious that he nearly panicked. 

“You have not been properly courting me.” She felt bold and unsure at the same time. “You look but you do not touch, nor do you say anything to me. You leave me in the quandary of not knowing if you are interested in me or not.” 

He was silent and she looked up at him. “I can feel you looking at me every time we are together. Is it that you find me amusing? 

“I find you anything but amusing.” The Ranger did not know where the conversation was going and it made him nervous. “I find you...” His voice trailed off when he could not think of what to say. This was going downhill very quickly and he did not know how to stop it. Women always expected you to read their minds and half the time he couldn’t even read his own. 

She looked toward the door. “Perhaps you had best leave.”

When he spoke again it was with an urgency in his voice. "Do not send me away because I find you fair. I do not know Dwarven ways and meant no offense." His voice trailed off as he realized he sounded like an idiot.

"Do you find me fair?" Her question was a whisper. She was being impossibly bold.

"You are more fair than every flower that ever bloomed." He held his hand up. "No. That just sounds stupid..."

Hather stepped up to her and traced the line of her cheek. "Dis, you are the part of me that I did not know was missing. There is nothing I can compare you to because there has never been anyone like you. I want you for all the days of my life. I want to go to sleep next to you and have you be the first thing I see every morning." His voice was shaking. "It's all moving too fast and I'm sorry." 

Her response was a whisper. "I am not." She stepped toward him, her eyes never leaving his.

He bent and gathered her into his arms. Her hair smelled of woodsmoke and spice. Hather slid his hand gently down to cup her chin and tilted it upwards. Her lips met his eagerly...softly and parted as the kiss deepened. He was drowning in her and she in him, breathing was hard and speech impossible.

When he lifted her and carried her to her bedroom, she did not protest. This felt as right as if preordained -- as if her life had been like a held breath waiting for this moment. By some sorcery her clothing fell away and joined his on the floor. She had no memory of having removed it. All she could do was feel.

Hather was trembling, but neither of them noticed. He kissed her starting from her cheek across the softness of her beard, down her neck to her breasts. He dwelled there kissing and sucking gently while his hand traced the rounded curves of her torso down to her mons. He cupped her, just holding her feeling her softness and warmth beneath his hand. Her legs parted, welcoming his touch. He slid his fingers down into her slippery heat. Soft. She was so soft and moist. She arched and then sighed as he took the invitation and slid questing fingers deep into her.

Dis reached out and slid her hands down his chest on a quest of their own. His chest was smooth allowing her fingers to slide easily over skin and muscle. She explored his pecs and then slid down over his belly and lower still. Her once soft hands were work hardened, but they felt like silk to him as he felt his length explored and then encircled and stroked. He kissed her hard, groaning into her mouth.

"Please." she was breathless and the plea nearly silent.

He heard her and slid his weight onto her, balancing carefully, entering her as if she was as fragile as the wing of a butterfly. As he moved within her she felt a building of heat and need. She was the daughter of one king and sister to another. She was neither fragile nor breakable. She held his hips and thrust upward demanding more. He complied, driving deeper and harder following the rhythm she set with hands and hips.

"I love you, Dis," he whispered into her ear. "Oh...how I love you..."

"My heart," she whispered back.

And then there was no more breath for talk, only for feeling and celebrating and rejoicing.

Afterward, she lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder, her hand skimming over the perfection of his long hairless torso. He was so different and yet so right. One thing was the same and she squeezed him gently, making him sigh and slightly engorge in her hand. He leaned down to kiss her again, his tongue dueling with hers as the kiss deepened. He worked his way down to her beard, which should have felt alien, but was just soft and tickling against his lips and cheek.

“Does my having a beard bother you?” A fleeting thought of shaving it crossed her mind and vanished before she could be shamed by it.

“I like it.” he whispered. “It’s soft and it’s part of you.” He nuzzled along her cheek tracking the line of her beard. “Mmmm...definitely like it... Like other parts too...”

His kisses worked their way lower as did his hands. He explored every part of her, glad it was daylight and his love was a feast for all of his senses. He loved her full breasts and his attention to them had her moaning softly. He kissed his way down to her belly and felt her tense a bit. She’d borne two children and had the stretch marks to prove it. She moved her hand down to cover her belly.

Hather gently moved her hand to one side. His finger slowly traced her longest one. He adjusted his position and looked into her eyes. “You have battle scars, too. Women can die in childbirth. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to have to be so brave.”

He trailed ghost kisses down to her abdomen and nuzzled her, his beard tickling the sensitive skin and whispering how beautiful she was. One tear slowly traced down her cheek as she listened to him love her. Never could she have imagined how perfect this moment would be. Never. 

She pulled him back up and kissed him hard. She felt his breath quicken and his hand moved from her belly down the inside of her thigh to caress the silken skin and then back up to start the fire raging again. 

The second time was slower and sweeter and hotter if that is possible. They spent long moments learning the other’s moves and triggers, what caused a giggle or a moan. It was a dance as old as time and they were swept up in it, whirled away eager to be completely lost in each other and the moment. 

She climaxed before he did, giving him the chance to watch as she threw her head back, eyes open but not seeing, pupils blown so that her eyes were black instead of sapphire. Her moans and rhythmic clenching sent shivers down his spine and he managed to hold off only until she was finished. It was her turn to watch him as he thrust deeply, neck arched forward, muscles straining, looking into her eyes as if searching for her soul. 

Afterward they lay quietly twined in each other’s arms. She kissed him gently.

“According to my customs we are betrothed now. We made love, so we’ve entered the stage of betrothal called _azlâf_ ‘the sleep,’ though we’ve done little sleeping. This means that I will have you and no other. It is a commitment to make a home together. It is also a contract of sorts – _the zarb_. And there should be an exchange of gold to seal the contract, but I like our way better.” She gave him a little kiss, but he drew her close and kissed her until she was breathless.

When he released her he smiled and stroked her cheek, caressing her beard with the tips of his fingers. “And I would have no other. I cannot imagine life, or a home without you Dis, or without the boys.” He signed deeply. “Or even without Thorin.” 

Her sapphire eyes were soft with joy and love. She snuggled into his arms and heaved a sigh of utter contentment. They fell asleep like that with him still inside her and awoke to find the daylight fading. Dis nearly threw him on the floor as she leaped out of bed and started to dress. He watched her shift slide down her body and made a soft sound of disappointment.

“It’s like watching the sun go out.”

She laughed and told him to get dressed. “It’s very late and I have to get supper started.”

Hather looked outside and realized how late it was. “Is there time to make a roast?” He started pulling on his clothes.

She shook her head wincing as she caught a lock on the fingers as she tried to straighten her disheveled hair. “I’m not sure what to do. How do I explain what I was doing?” She started to get upset and had trouble pulling on a boot.

Hather slid behind her and put his arms around her. His kisses on her neck were both sweet and irritating. “What can you make quickly?”

Dis shrugged. “I don’t know, roasts take hours and stew isn’t fast.” She shrugged him off and stood up. “I have to think of something.”

He was thoughtful, mentally poring through the recipes that he knew. “How about what my mother called ‘Strip Bake’?” Dis cocked her head questioningly and he continued. “You cut strips of meat pretty thin, fry them and then pop them in the oven with potatoes and onions or leeks and some herbs. She used to fix it when we had unexpected guests.”

They walked to the kitchen and she asked if he had the recipe. Hather laughed. “Of course. I told you where I’m from men are expected to cook. Do you have potatoes and onions?”

“Leeks. I have leeks and breadroot.” She rummaged through the pantry pulling out items.

He went out back and brought in a venison roast. He set it on the counter, took his grandfather’s knife and much to Dis’ horror began to cut thin strips of meat. “You can’t use that knife, Hather!”

“Why not?” He was genuinely puzzled. “I don’t just keep it for slaying dragons, you know.”

She rested her hand on his arm and looked up at him. “Do you not honor your great weapons?”

He nodded. “Sometimes, but I don’t know that I is any great honor to be stuck in a sheath and never used. Grandfather used to use it as a toothpick. It is the sharpest knife I have and I need to help the woman I love, so I am honoring it right now.” He cut another strip, being careful to slice across the grain. 

When he had reduced the roast to strips, he cleaned the knife and set it on the counter. Dis was peeling the breadroot. He stood behind her and kissed on the top of her head. “You know I dreamed of what happened this afternoon, but I never foresaw it ending like this.”

She turned to face him. “What, in a kitchen having to help cook?”

“Mmmm, no...in a kitchen helping my love prepare supper. It’s very domestic and I find I like it.” He kissed her lightly and then more deeply. “I like it a lot.”

She returned his kiss and then pulled away. “The race of Men is indeed strange.” The twinkle in her eyes made heart skip a beat. “I like it too but we have to hurry...even if we do not wish to.”

She’d added wood to the stove while was getting the venison. When it was the right temperature, he directed her to brown the strips of meat while he sliced the potatoes and leeks. When the meat was done he showed her how to fry the leeks until they were browned and then add the sliced breadroot. They mixed it all together in the big iron skillet, put on the lid and Hather put it in the oven to bake. 

“Teamwork.” He said proudly, grinning at her.

“You look insufferably pleased with yourself, Ranger.” Her tone was teasing and she had a sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t think that just because you are wonderful in bed and can cook that you are Mahal’s gift to females.”

He reached down and lifted her until she was eye level. “I don’t think it -- I know it. At least I am to this female.”

If she had a reply it was silenced by the kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Thorin came trudging in tired and cranky. It would have been a long day no matter what but this day was particularly long. He didn’t mind the work, it was honest and in truth he liked the creative process from start to finish. What he didn’t like were the customers. Dis had told him once that he wasn’t a ‘people person’ and with that he agreed. Picky customers, petty complaints and rush jobs all made him long to take a hammer to more than his anvil. He washed up and came into the kitchen surprised to see Hather already there with the oven door open poking something in a pan. He felt his hands involuntarily ball into fists. His first impulse was to throw the Ranger out. He suppressed it and took a long breath before speaking.

“Where is my sister? If you are doing the cooking tonight, I am eating at the inn.” he growled only half joking. “Stop rummaging around in the stove and get out of my way. I am tired.”

“Dis had an errand to run,” he replied, avoiding the truth that she had raced over to the shop to collect the boys before Dwalin would arrive and ask questions.

Hather stepped aside to let Thorin pass. He watched the Dwarf walk tiredly to his chair and felt pangs of guilt. He’d had a glorious day while Thorin’s had been hard and miserable by the look of him. The king always seemed to wear the burdens of life and what he felt were his responsibilities on his shoulders like an iron mantle. The only royalty Hather had ever met were the Sindar elders and they lived a life free from want or care. It seemed unfair that a king of the Line of Durin should be reduced to toiling like a slave every day just to survive. 

He was about to go and have a seat by the fire himself when he remembered a plant he’d seen growing by the privy in back. It had died back with the frost so Hather had to look hard but he found the remains and dug it out with his boot knife. He carried it in and washed the root carefully and then using the dragon knife shaved off thin strips. He dipped out a cupful of the hot water Dis kept simmering, but cooled it before adding the root. When the water had turned a satisfying yellow-green he removed the slices of root and added honey. He tasted it and when it seemed sweet enough, he took it in to Thorin.

“What’s this you’re offering me?” Thorin took it and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled like old socks and honey. He made a face and shoved it at Hather trying to hand it back. “More of your ‘medicine’? Keep it. Do I bloody look sick to you?” He lowered his brows and looked up grumpy and imperious.

“No, you bloody look tired and you bloody look like your body hurts.” Hather shot back. “Why don’t you stop being such a hard arse all the time?”

Surprised and a bit amused, Thorin sat back in the chair still holding the mug up for Hather to take. “Life is hard. Now take this poison and drink it yourself.”

“That ‘poison’ is Valerian tea. It will help with the muscle aches and might improve your attitude a little, although I doubt it. I don’t think anything aside from one of Dwalin’s axes could help that.” Hather’s common sense told him to shut up, but his temper was riled and he was tired of the Dwarf’s attitude.

“And a side benefit, for you, is that it keeps Elves away -- if you believe in that kind of thing.”

Thorin looked at the vile-colored tea and then up at the Ranger. “Keeps Elves away?” Somehow his tone sounded almost hopeful.

“Aye, that’s what the healers say.” Hather was trying not to smile and spoil a perfectly good outrage.

The Dwarf sniffed it again, made a face and then, to Hather’s surprise, drank it and handed him the cup. “I suppose you got the recipe from those Elves it’s supposed to keep away.” He made a face that was not altogether the result of the draught.

“If it works, it does not matter where it came from. The plant was growing in your own yard. By the privy.” From the look on Thorin’s face he might best have kept that bit of information to himself.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Sit down.”

“What?” The command was unexpected and it took a minute for his brain to switch gears.

“Sit. Down!”

Hather sat. The footstool was the closest seat so he took it.

Thorin leaned forward and as his shoulders squared he became King Under the Mountain. The weariness fell away as he straightened and leveled his gaze at the Ranger. 

“When were you planning to ask me if you may court my sister?” His voice was low and rumbling, the tone commanding.

“What?” Hather winced internally as he repeated himself. When a King asks you a question you are supposed to give a coherent answer.

“You heard me. Do you two think I’m blind or just stupid? You have been making calf-eyes at each other for weeks.” Thorin glowered at him, demanding answers that he didn’t really feel comfortable giving.

“If you want to court Dis you need to ask permission. Do. You. Want. To. Court. My. Sister?” Each word cut through the air like a whip.

“Y..yes.” He winced as he stammered. He cursed himself for being cowed by Thorin. “Yes, I want to court your sister.”

“Then ask me.” 

Hather nearly said, “What?” before he could stop himself.

He rose to his feet and faced Thorin. He took a breath and stood tall and proud. He bowed once formally. “May I have your permission to court your sister, Your Highness?”

Thorin kept his gaze even. “Never in the history of the Line of Durin has a human entered into a relationship with one of the Dwarrowfolk. You are asking to break with thousands of years of tradition.”

Hather felt his pulse quicken. If he lost now he would forfeit everything that had become dear to him. He took a long breath and said, “There are a lot of things that have happened that should not happen. They should not have happened but did. The dragon should not have attacked Erebor. You should not be a king in exile.” His voice dropped so that Thorin had to lean forward to hear him. “You sister should not be alone and have to toil like a drudge.”

“And things would be better for my sister if she married _you?_ ” Thorin’s question rang as a challenge.

Hather drew himself up into a fighting stance, feet wide, shoulders back, arms ready. “She would no longer have to do sewing for anyone but herself. She would never want for anything.” Thorin’s expression did not change. Hather felt a little tickle of fear gnawing at the back of his mind. 

“And you think you can give her this.” Thorin’s voice dripped with contempt. “You think you can just walk in and take her away from me.”

“I did not realize that she was yours to own.” He glared at the king and strode over to his backpack. He pulled out a pouch and threw it at Thorin. The Dwarf caught it easily, surprised at its weight. “Here is a bride price. If that is not enough I can get more.”

Thorin hefted the bag. “So you would buy my sister?” His voice was knife-sharp cutting painfully deep.

Hather’s words skimmed from between clenched teeth. “By my honor, she is not chattel to be bought or sold, but it is apparent that Dwarves do not so highly prize their women as Men do. In my village she would need no one’s permission to be courted. She would be free to love whom she chose.”

“And free to starve?” Thorin threw the pouch back. “Keep your gold, I think you will find you are the one who has need of it.

“No woman in my village ever went cold or hungry.” Hather snapped. He drew himself up to his full height, spread his hands and continued, “I was well trained and can provide for Dis and her sons. I can work leather, till the soil and hunt. I can find food when others can not. Have I not brought meat almost every day so that you may share it? I have strong hands that are not afraid of work”

Thorin stood and faced him, brows creased, his right hand near the knife he still wore. “Would you fight for her?”

The Ranger was having difficulty containing the anger that rose hot and bitter in his heart. He squared his shoulders, adjusting his position should he need to defend himself or draw his blade. “I would die for her!”

“Good! She deserves no less.” Thorin nodded curtly. His posture relaxed, making him look less threatening, less ready to do battle.

Hather temper was still up. “She shall not have less. Nor shall her sons. I am Hather son of Haldor and I pledge to put their needs before mine for as long as I draw a breath in this world.”

Thorin’s head bowed for a long moment and when he looked at the Ranger he was almost smiling. There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he said, “That was what I wanted to hear. Now I believe you are the kind of husband my sister deserves.” He nodded, satisfied. “You have my permission to court her.” 

The Ranger stood there panting, his adrenaline still high. He wanted to hit something. No, he wanted to hit Thorin. He wanted to knock him on his arrogant Dwarven arse. He had to take two deep breaths before he was able to respond.

“Thank you.” He clenched and unclenched his fist trying to work out the tension.

The king sat back down, put his feet up on the footstool and got comfortable. Thorin gave him one of his approving smiles -- the one he used on the boys, then pulled out his pipe, filled it and leaned back in the chair. “And go check on supper.”

As he walked toward the kitchen Hather muttered, “ _Ego, *mibo orch!_ ” It was a very good thing that Thorin did not speak Sindarin. *** 

 

***

 

Dis had arrived at Balin’s shortly before Dwalin. She burst through the door of the shop and he took one look at her flushed cheeks and swollen lips and burst out laughing. “I see you took old Balin’s advice. Good on ya, lassie.”

Mortified, she hid her face with her hands blushing hotly, but he pulled them away and hugged her. “It’s about time you found a bit of happiness. Your life has been difficult since you were a child and you are way past due for good things to start happening.”

“I’m absolutely mad,” she laughed. “Stark raving mad.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He chuckled and released her. “Now gather up the lads and get them on back home. Dwalin and I will be by presently.”

She gave the boys a moment to collect their belongings and slip their capes on and then started out the door. She bounced off Dwalin as he came in, looked up at him, giggled and then took off down the street.

He looked after her, puzzled. “Now what was that all about?”

Balin laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll find out soon enough, now go and have a wash-up before supper.”

Dis and the boys practically ran home. She arrived breathless only to find Thorin already seated and smoking and looking a bit smug. He smiled a greeting at her and scooped the boys up into his lap half listening as they both tried to tell him about the afternoon with Balin. He jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “He’s in there cooking. I expect he won’t poison us.”

Wide-eyed she rounded the corner and slid to a stop when she saw Hather doing battle with what looked to be scone dough. He had flour down his front and a smear across his right cheek. When he saw her he looked apologetic. “I got too much water in to start with, but I think its okay now.”

Dis slid on her apron and scooted him over. She touched the dough and it was smooth and firm as a baby’s butt -- her mother’s way of telling if dough was ready to be rolled out. Most of the dough had little flecks of something in it. “What did you put in it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Basil.” He cocked his head, “Well thyme would work and I suppose rosemary would work too.” He could see this was a new idea for her. “The herbs add flavor to the scones, you know, like…like…” his voice trailed off.

“I don’t know,” she said with a smile, “but I like.” She stood on tiptoe, wiped the smear of flour off his cheek and kissed him quickly.

“We need to get these in the oven and talk,” he said urgently.

Intrigued, she quickly rolled the scones out, cut them expertly and dropped them onto a baking sheet. When they were in the oven, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the back room.

“He knows…about us, well caring for one another. I doubt he knows about the rest or I would probably be dead now.” His voice was urgent, but his eyes were shining. “He told me to ask for permission to court you -- so I did.”

She put a surprised hand up to her mouth. “He did _what_?! What did he say?”

He wasn’t about to tell her the whole story, not yet, anyway. “Well, he said yes...of course.” He lifted her high and kissed her soundly. “He said -- yes!”

He put her down and found two pairs of eyes staring up at him. They didn’t look unhappy, just surprised. “Uncle Thorin wants you and Mom.” With that they turned and galloped back into the great-room.

With some trepidation they entered the room and found themselves surrounded by the three Dwarves. Everyone was smiling, so they relaxed a little and Hather ventured a smile in return.

“Laddie, I hear congratulations are in order! I was wonderin’ when you’d get the stones to ask her.” bellowed Dwalin, clapping him on the back and nearly flattening him. Hather wasn’t sure if he was scarier angry or happy. Either way it promised pain for the recipient of his enthusiasm.

Balin hugged Dis and shook Hather’s hand while Thorin stood there wearing his approval smile and acting like it was all his idea. The boys had no idea what was going on, but the energy in the room was infectious and they started laughing and hugging everyone by turns. 

Supper was…different -- but in a good way…mostly. Balin talked about how good for Dis the Ranger was. Dwalin talked about what a good provider the Ranger was. Thorin took a shot at him every now and then if it seemed the compliments were flowing too freely, reminding them that he had seen only thirty winters and had yet to be truly tested. Dis and Hather spent most of the meal giving each other that look that translates as ‘we would rather be any place else on earth.’ The lads were having a grand time. They had no clue what was transpiring except that everyone was happy and that they got extra honey and butter on their dessert scones.

After dinner Hather helped Dis clean up, noting that if Thorin still disapproved he kept it to himself. They just wanted to be together away from prying eyes. The boys were rounded up and parked at the table for their lessons from Balin although they really wanted to just run between all the adults trying to understand what the talk was about.

Dis dipped hot water into a bucket and Hather poured it into the dish pan for her. “Is this what courting is like?” He whispered, his lips inches away from her ear, giving her goose bumps.

She shook her head. “Well, it wasn’t like this when Fendri asked to court me. But it was sort of a given, so it wasn’t really news.”

She turned and looked up at him. “What did Thorin say when you asked him?”

“Uh...he sort of told me to ask him,” Hather replied. “He wasn’t very nice about it. He seemed angry and for a moment or two I thought he was challenging me to a fight.”

Considering that yesterday he would have forbidden any suggestion of courting she was surprised that he hadn’t started something with the Ranger. “You didn’t fight with him…did you?”

“I think he just wanted to know if I would fight for you.” He pulled her to him and lifted her and set her on the counter so that their eyes were more on a level. “He wants the best for you.” He kissed her tenderly. “So do I.”

The kiss deepened and when they could breathe again he smiled at her. “All I wanted was my knife repaired.” He tenderly smoothed back an errant curl. “You never know what miracles are going to happen when you least expect it.”

She leaned forward and kissed his nose. “No, you certainly don’t. Now let us get the dishes done before the water chills.”

Three of them sat by the fire smoking and relaxing. It had been a very long day for Thorin. Dwalin looked at his cousin who was sitting with his eyes closed. He was surprised that the king had given his permission for the courtship. Years ago Thorin had met a man who was half Elf and half human and had had a good bit to say about it. It was to the Ranger’s credit that he had not been sent packing. He drew on his pipe and watched the smoke rise. The longer he knew his cousin the less he felt he knew about him. He was complicated and introspective. Dwalin blew the smoke out in a snort. He preferred his own simplicity…and more dessert.

He entered the kitchen and found them in an embrace, the Ranger bent down and wrapped completely around Dis. He cleared his throat and held back a laugh as they practically sprang apart.

“Sorry. I came out for another scone, if there are any left.”

Dis was flustered, but efficient and she had a scone on a plate with a dollop of honey in a few moments.

Hather leaned back against the counter. “Dwalin, have you ever been in love?”

He smiled at Dis and nodded his thanks as she handed him the plate. “Oh aye -- that I have.” He stopped and grinned at them. “It was the worst ten minutes of m’life.”

The three of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

When the boys fell asleep in spite of themselves it was time for bed. Dis and Hather carried them in and tucked them in, Kili reluctant to release his grip on the Ranger’s neck. He ended up nearly in bed with the lad until he persuaded him to let go so that he could sleep and tomorrow would come sooner. Laughing, he and Dis came back into the great-room and said their goodbyes as Dwalin and Balin headed home to bed. 

Hather left when Thorin finally pointedly addressed him. “I gave you permission to court my sister – not to move in.” Hather’s only response was a wink that thinned Thorin’s lips.

He bid Dis a formal goodnight by kissing her hand, while Thorin did his best not to roll his eyes. Courting was definitely something he felt he could live without ever trying. He took his seat in front of the fire and busied himself cleaning the bowl of his pipe. He looked up to see Dis watching him, her face unreadable.

“Good night, Thorin. Thank you.” Her voice was little more than a whisper and she was gone before he could reply.


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin started to refill his pipe and then changed his mind, setting it in its stand and learning back. The candles had burned low and he snuffed the one next to him, sitting in near darkness with only the glow of the fire.

In the dance of the flames he saw events of times past. He saw dragon fire and the campfires of the survivors dotting the trail as they made camps, so few camps… He saw the cooking fire that his mother, the queen, struggled with as she learned to cook to feed her family. Hands that had never known work blistered and hardened, but never her heart. He saw her as she drew her children close to the warmth of the fire and sang soft sweet songs to comfort them. The king and his heir had to rule as best they could and be there for all of their people, but the queen only needed to be there for her three children. He had chafed at not being allowed to accompany his father and grandfather, but years later when he heard tales of what they had seen he respected them for letting him keep his youth a little longer.

He saw Dis, first as a wee babe in arms, then as small chubby toddler who liked to chew on his braids and as a young princess fussing with her long gown but stealing peeks at herself in the mirror. He loved being her big brother. The three of them would play down the long halls pretending that Orcs were invading only to be defeated gloriously by the two brothers while their sister cheered them on, reveling in their heroics.

After the dragon took Erebor she would sit with him, sometimes in his lap where she would cuddle and find comfort. He knew that their father had important work to do, far too important to take time to hold one child when he had a hundred to feed and care for. Thorin, in some ways, became the father and personal protector. He never felt that he was very good at it, but he knew that she loved him utterly. When she was very little she told him that she was going to marry him when she grew up because he held her heart. As she grew she used to tell him everything.

Where had that gone?

When did she stop being able to tell him everything?

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He had become his father, so involved with being King that he no longer thought about what his family needed. He had changed in ways that he hated. Never would his little sister have fled the house because he had hurt her so. He used to be her guardian. He had to become that person again. He had to stop…just stop…being anything other than the brother who loves her.

He rose and walked to Dis’ bedroom. He tapped on the door and asked if he could enter.

Dis was sitting up in bed. “Is there something wrong?” She asked anxiously.

Thorin sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her for a long moment, watching the fire that warmed the bedroom highlight her face. She was older now, but she still deserved a big brother who would protect her and love her.

“Nothing is wrong, Dis ….and everything.” His voice was low, the words hesitant.

“What do you mean? What’s the matter?” She looked at him, puzzlement giving way to fear.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing like that, my sister. What’s wrong is me. You should have been able to come to me and tell me of your feelings for the Ranger.”

“I…I knew you would not approve.” She laid her hand on his arm and looked up at him. “I was afraid you would send him away.”

He rested his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. “I would never willingly hurt you. I have to remember that I’m your brother first and your King second. Long gone are the days when you could tell me anything. I have let life harden me.” He bowed his head, hair falling forward to obscure his face. “I have to put my family first. I could have lost you in Erebor. It’s a miracle that you escaped and I have not done right by you.”

Dis reached out and lifted his dark hair away from his face, smoothing it back behind his ear and running her hand down his cheek. ‘You have always done your best. I understand that.”

“I think I knew that Fendri was not your One, but I pushed for the match because I thought his father could help our people. I should have seen that he would not help anyone, but who could know that he would even abandon his own grandchildren when it was expedient to do so.”

“Oh Thorin, I loved Fendri,” Dis said gently. “You know he was nothing like his father. He was not my One and I was not his, but we’d known each other for years. He was a good husband and he gave me two beautiful sons. I will never regret marrying him.” She smiled at Thorin. “Without him there would be no Fili or Kili and I would not trade them for all the years of my life with my One.”

“Have you finally found your One?” His question was a whisper.

“Yes. I tried to deny it for the longest time, but…yes. I believe that I am his as well, even though humans don’t think of love that way. I’m so happy. Are you happy for me?” It was a question but it was full of hope.

He gathered her into his arms and held her as he had when she was a child. “Dis, I am more than happy for you. I want to see you smile again. Sometimes…I just don’t know how to stop being king.”

She held him smiling, her heart singing. “I know,” she said gently. “I never hold it against you.” 

She moved his hand and rested it against her chest. “You still hold my heart.” He rested his hand there, feeling the beat of her heart. He pulled her tighter and rocked her, tucking his head in so that she would never know that sudden tears blurred his vision. He vowed to be more careful with the heart that he held. She was so precious to him, far more than he would ever be able to tell her.

She was brought back to the present when she felt him shiver. The room was chill in spite of the fire. Disengaging from him, she flipped the covers back on the bed and moved over.

“Come and sleep with me the way we did as children.” He thought about it for a moment, then stooped, put more logs on the fire, kicked his boots off and then slid into bed beside her. She was tall for a Dwarf, only an inch shorter than his own 5’2”, but more slightly built so that she felt small and vulnerable. He gathered her into his arms and she snuggled against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much, my brother.”

He kissed her forehead and muttered drowsily, “I’ve missed you too.”

Morning came too early as it always has and Thorin opened his eyes to find Dis still curled in the curve of his arm. They had apparently slept in the same position all night. The arm under her was numb and he doubted if he could move it. He tugged but he had little strength and his sister didn’t move. He started to reach over to wake her when the bedroom door burst open and two small squealing children thundered across the room and launched themselves onto the bed.

“Unc’a Thorin, Unc’a Thorin!” Kili yelled, planting a hard little foot in Thorin’s crotch and throwing his arms around his groaning uncle’s neck. Fili was hot on his heels, crawling up Thorin’s leg where a hastily placed hand deflected a sharp little knee. Dis moved enough to let Fili slip under the covers between them, although Kili remained on top of Thorin holding his braids and looking at him with unrepressed delight. His uncle moved him enough to get the blanket out from under him and pulled him down to keep warm.

When he could talk he asked, “Do they wake you like this every morning?”

She chuckled. “Well, not every morning, but often enough. It’s mornings like this that I’m glad that I didn’t have three boys.”

Thorin disengaged Kili’s hands and got him to lay flat, using Thorin’s chest as a pillow. In spite of having experienced a new kind of pain, Thorin was happy. It seemed as if he’d forgotten what it felt like to be able to just relax and take joy in his family. It felt wonderful to just be, to stay under the warm covers and love and laugh. Not feeling a bit guilty, he allowed himself an extra few minutes to enjoy the feeling.

Thorin had just stoked the fire in the forge when Hather came in. He continued to put his morning’s work out while the Ranger spoke.

“While I’m out, I’m going to check on the bear I spotted earlier. It has turned cold enough. If he has denned, we could take him more easily.” 

Dwalin came in and Thorin greeted him with a nod. Before Hather could deflect it, he received a hearty slap on the back from the Dwarf. “Good ta see ya up early, lad.”

The Ranger rolled his shoulder to take out the sting. “I was just telling Thorin I saw a sizeable bear a while back and thought that he would give us both meat and a pelt.”

Dwalin grinned and looked at him as if sizing him up. “Need help takin’ him down?”

“Aye, he’s a bruiser. He looks to be…oh at least three times your size.” Hather noted with amusement that Dwalin flexed just a little as he was compared with a bear.

“Aye, we could do that. I hate to give up a day of rest but it’d be worth it for bear steaks.” He turned to Thorin. “What say you, cousin?”

Thorin nodded. “See if the bear has denned. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur will help us for a share of the meat.”

Seeing that he was dismissed, Hather took his leave. He saddled Aldamir and left town at a lope. The stallion was ready to be out after a long month in the stall. His sprain was healed and he was in fine fettle. Had he not been prepared for it, the horse would have sent him sailing several times as he worked off some of his pent off energy with a series of celebratory bucks.

It felt good to be able to travel horseback again. It made covering distance much faster, allowing him to hunt farther away from the village. He bagged four rabbits in quick succession, cleaning them and putting them in the smaller game bag. He saw a fox and coveted the pelt, but wasn’t terribly disappointed that it was too far away to take with his bow. Like a living flame it ran down a hill to vanish in the undergrowth at the bottom. He waited a moment to see if it would reappear. When it did not, he moved on, thinking the world a darker place for its absence.

Hather headed northeast to the bear’s range. He carefully worked the area where he had seen the bear, looking for spoor. When he found tracks he slid down and examined them. They were not fresh and their depth suggested that the bear had been successful gaining the weight he needed to see him though hibernation. He scouted the area until he found an outcropping that was well marked with tracks and scat. He dismounted again, commanded Aldamir to stand and then followed the bear’s trail up the side of the hill. 

He climbed the slope looking on the north side for a den opening. He hadn’t gone far when he found an opening to a cave, with a good bit of detritus at the entrance signifying that had been excavated by the bear as he built his den. The scent in the cave was warm and musky, attesting to the presence of the bear. It was late enough in the season so the bear would be hibernating, his metabolism slowed considerably. He would be there when the hunting party returned for him.

It was still early afternoon when Hather knocked at the door. Dis had watched him from the window, resisting the urge to run down to meet him. She was a grown woman with children and she had no excuse for acting like a silly girl with her first crush. Having promised herself to act with decorum, she squealed delightedly when he lifted her, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a brief but heated kiss. 

He set her down and then heisted the boys, chuckling that he was getting quite a workout this day. The boys demanded his attention, so Dis took the rabbits into the backroom to dress. She checked the large pot on the stove and then cleaned the rabbits.

Kili wanted to be bounced on the Ranger’s knee while Fili showed him that he was getting the hang of tapping out a simple rhythm. As much as he wanted to follow Dis, Hather patiently showed him how to hold the spoons a little tighter so that he could flip them faster without dropping one or both. 

When he could get away he went out and peeked into the pot to see her plop two chickens into a large stew pot. She was done with the rabbits and had placed two stoneware crocks on the counter. He stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her. She sighed softly and leaned back into him.

“Are we having chicken for supper?” He bent down to kiss the top of her head and then moved lower to nibble he ear.

She was finding it difficult to concentrate. “No, those will go into these pots for days this winter when we need them. Thorin took a dozen chickens in trade for work he did. I will put them up for the hard times.”

His nuzzle went lower. “Let us hope there will be no hard times.”

Dis looked up at him, blushing a little. “I believe we are having one at this moment – or at least you seem to be.”

“Mmmm…is that a problem?” His tongue circled her ear and he blew gently. 

She turned and tipped her chin up to be kissed, a request that he was glad to comply with.  
“Only that I’m cooking and the boys are here.”

“Isn’t it about time they visited their cousin, Balin?” His lips were insistent. 

“I…uh.. Stop that, I can’t think!” Dis pulled away and went into the great-room. The boys were playing with their toys, building a fort of some sort using twigs that Thorin had cut and cleaned for them. They looked up when she came in. “Fili, take your spoons and show Balin how much better you are doing. Take Kili with you and don’t come back until I come and get you.”

Balin’s store was always fascinating with its treasure trove of goods and novelties. If they were good they would each get a lemon drop, so they were always…well usually, very good. Fili barely gave Kili time to put on his cloak before he hauled him out the door and down the street.

Dis turned to find Hather leaning up against the hall door jam. His eyes were sparkling as he smiled and held out his arms. She walked into them, he lifted her easily and carried her into the bedroom.

There was no shyness this time, no nerves, just need and want and passion. She started to undress, but he stopped her. He sat on the edge of the bed where he was on a level with her and slowly undid the buttons down the front of her dress. It fell in a soft cloud of blue around her feet and he looked at her small clothes, a cream bodice with a scrollwork of dainty embroidered flowers, an indulgence for a woman who had little time to do things for herself.

He unlaced the bodice slowly, kissing her softly in her cleavage. “I want to dress you in lace and in silk.”

She laughed down at him. “I have no need for finery, besides with you I would not be wearing it for very long anyway.”

He smiled as he bared her full breasts. “And no silk could ever be more beautiful than the pale skin I see before me.” He kissed first one nipple and then the other, coaxing them to rise and stand proudly, demanding more attention. She replied with a little whimper as he paid homage to her breasts.

When he gave her a moment to catch her breath she tugged hard on his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. She pushed him, climbing up to kneel astride him, stretching out across his chest, trailing kisses down to his nipples where she returned the favor. He had not had a woman do that before and was a little surprised at how wonderful it felt. He was even more surprised at how she was taking the lead. He found he liked that as well. He liked that a lot.

Dis rolled to one side and unlaced his pants. She tugged them downward, pausing to give him a second to kick his boots off. He arched his hips to help her and felt the chill air against his burning erection. She reached down and encircled him with her hand, teasing him and warming his flesh. Her thumb teased the head, coaxing his foreskin back to reveal the sensitive flesh beneath. He shuddered as she traced pre-come in slick circles. He shuddered even harder as her kisses blazed down his chest and over his belly.

She kissed the tip of his cock gently, her lips toying with his foreskin, tugging gently at it and then abandoning it to gently stretch the tender slit at the tip with her tongue. She used her lips to pull his foreskin down and then slid her tongue underneath it and circled the head with her soft hot tongue. He felt his eyes roll back in his head and coherent thought fled. It felt amazing, but not quite as amazing as when she leaned forward and slid the head and part of the shaft into her mouth and teased him with her tongue. At some point she took his shaft deeply and got serious.

He didn’t remember much except grabbing the sheet on either side to keep from elevating off the bed. He had officially entered into new territory. Now he knew why Dwarves kept their women hidden. If they were all treasures like Dis there would be good reason to keep them safe.

He reached down to tug at her, warning her that he was close. She ignored him, pulling him deeper into her mouth. The heat gathered at the base of his spine and then raced like wildfire up to shatter him. She held him and stayed with him, her moans echoing his own. When he could breathe again, he pulled her up and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. Salty, slightly bitter it flavored their kisses drawing them even closer. He licked ear blowing softly into it, whispering endearments in Sindaran. Not having her brother’s aversion to Elves she loved it and replied in Khuzdul. The language was forbidden to be spoken in the presence of outsiders, but where better than in bed with your lover to whisper forbidden things. 

_“Kurdel,”_ she whispered as he nuzzled her. _“Heart of all hearts.”_ She said more but it was muffled as he was too busy kissing her to pay attention.

He ran his tongue around the shell of her ear. _“Guren min gaim lín,_ he whispered. _“My heart is in your hands.”_

He kissed her deeply, his tongue darting out to trace her lips and down her cheek to the edge of her beard where he stopped to tug gently at the hair with his teeth. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

 _“Le melithon anuir._ ” he whispered. _I will love you forever.”_

Dis reached up and held his face gently between her hands. _“Usayang,_ you are my _usayang_ … _my greatest love.”_

She drew him back down to her lips moaning as his kiss worked its way down her to her breasts, drawing on her sensitive nipples until she felt responding contractions deep inside. He slid even lower, petting her, teasing her, running his long-fingered hand up the inside of her leg bypassing her mons, teasing her until she was shifting and her breath was near panting. She had teased him and he was returning the favor. Both knew where the game would end and neither wanted to rush. 

When his tongue trailed its way down over her abdomen to the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs, her breath caught and then came out in little sobs of pleading; Khuzdul mixed with Common and none of it intelligible. 

He placed his mouth carefully and blew, the warmth of his breath so erotic that it momentarily silenced her. All she could do was feel. When he kissed her inner lips she caught her breath and shivered. This was new for her. She had given but never received before. The sensation was nearly overwhelming. Then his tongue darted out and everything she had ever felt in her life paled by comparison. 

Smiling to himself the Ranger pulled forth every technique he’d ever used or even heard about. He’d always enjoyed this particular form of kissing but being with Dis took it to a whole new level. He lost himself in her pleasure, she became his entire focus. There was no world aside from the one they were making together in her bed on a chilly October afternoon. 

He slid his fingers up inside her, loving the feel of the tender moist tissue that clenched hungrily around him. He moved gently and steadily feeling for the small rough patch on the top wall and when he found it he expertly curled his fingers rhythmically grinning to himself as she reacted volcanically. Her orgasm washed over her, lifting her higher and higher only to break like a great wave and cast her upon his shore spent and gasping. 

When he entered her it was like coming home. She met him thrust for thrust, whispering words that needed no translation. He replied, urging her onward losing himself in what she was feeling – in what she needed. He looked down at her, marveling in the pleasure he was able to bring to her. She was so responsive and so giving. When he felt her arch up lifting him nearly off the bed, her contractions wrenching even more pleasure from his body, he let himself fly and slammed into her again and again until they dissolved into one body, one spirit…one joy. 

Separating was hard, it was like losing part of herself when he finally reluctantly slid from her and rolled to cuddle beside her. He kissed her smiling and whispered, “I have no words…” 

She shook her head. “None.” She giggled and then started to laugh. He smiled and then was pulled in and together they cuddled together laughing in wonder at the amazing experience they had shared. 

Much later Hather kissed her and sighed. As much as he would have loved to have spent the afternoon in bed with Dis, they both had work to do. He kissed her lazily and stretched out, head supported by his bent arm to watch her dress. Watching her put clothes on was like an eclipse. For her part, she enjoyed looking at him long and sleek and carelessly nude. She had never had the luxury of making love in the daytime with Fendri and had found it to be very enjoyable. She giggled to herself as she realized how shocked her mother would have been to find that her well-brought-up daughter had discovered a bit of an exhibitionist streak. 

After she left, he dressed and went down to check the barrels where his hides were stewing in a mix of water and ash from the fireplaces. The first barrel was not ready, the hair on the hides inside was still tight. In the second barrel the first hide he pulled was ready and he lifted it out careful not to get himself wet. He hung it and let it drip while he pulled a second hide out and hung it as well. 

When the first one had dripped out as much as possible he laid it over a scraping board he’d set up, pulled out his scraping knife and pushed it over the hide in strips shaving off the hair and the top layer of skin. He worked the hide methodically removing every last trace of hair then putting it back in the solution to continue to tan. He worked the second hide the same way. 

Hather sang while he worked, his heart happy for the first time in years. He could not believe that the simple need for a weaponsmith had changed his life forever. He looked toward the house, content simply to know that she was there. He was sure the boys would be out soon to “help” and to question and to be in the way every step he made. He was looking forward to it. He pulled out another hide and threw it over the scraping board. He had capes to make; warm waterproof capes of supple buckskin for his family. 

Thorin was having a good day at the forge. Dwalin dared to share conversation with him and not fear that the hammer in his hand would hit anything other than the sword on the anvil. Although he’d smiled while he announced that Hather had his permission to court Dis, Dwalin had the feeling that he wasn’t really all that happy with it. Tradition was that a widow would remain that way, but common sense dictated that a Dwarrow-woman with two small children needed a husband. Tradition also held that the husband be a Dwarf. Since Thorin was not the best at breaking with tradition he was certain that the decision had been hard on both the king and his sister. He shook his head and brought his hammer down on the hot iron. Sometimes it was good not to have any concerns beyond your pipe and a mug of ale. 

When Dis came to fetch the boys Balin was all smiles. He didn’t question her, he didn’t have to. She was still flushed and sparkling and he didn’t have to be a mind reader to know how she had spent the afternoon. He was glad that she had made her decision. It was unconventional, but he liked the human lad and thought that he would make a fine addition to the family. 

He gave her a small bag of lemon drops to take with her for the boys. They were excited at the prospect of more candy, but Balin cautioned them that they could only have one if they were very good. Promises were made more or less coherently and Kili ran over to him for one last hug before leaving. 

“You look happy,” he said to Dis over Kili’s shoulder. 

“I am. I didn’t think it would work out like this. Thank you for talking to Thorin.” She bent and fastened Fili’s cape, the button was coming loose and she’d have to mend it. 

“I didn’t talk to him, he wasn’t here long enough for me to do more than to caution him not to be rash. When he left here he was still against the match.” 

“Then who?” Suddenly she knew and she smiled a little. “I wonder if it was one of my new friends. Townfolk say what’s on their minds without worrying about protocol.” 

Balin cocked his head thoughtfully. “And him not being their king they would be more free to speak. Is your new friend sassy?” 

“Cheeky might be a better description.” She laughed. “I’m sorry I missed it.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Balin showed up at Thorin’s forge just as he was ready to close the door. His cousin stepped inside and smiled. “Care to join an old Dwarf for a drink?”

Thorin snorted. “I smell like I’ve been dead for a week.”

“Ach, is that all? I swore it was more like a fortnight.” Balin chuckled. “No matter, if we sit in the corner our brass is as good as if you smelled like a rose.”

Thorin drew water from the well and rinsed off the sweat and grime as best he could. He dried off on an old towel and pulled his shirt on and then the cloak over it. The weather was turning bitter and snow would be falling soon. He felt as if he was always either too hot or too cold. Well, with an ale or two in him the weather would matter less. He followed Balin to the closest pub, joining him at a rear table. 

He took a long pull of his ale, wiped his mouth and leaned forward. “What is on your mind, cousin? You don’t just show up at my door offering to buy me a drink for no reason.”

“True enough. We never talked about what happened the other night. It was bad business to send your sister running into the street. Knowing you, it isn’t over yet.” He cocked his head at Thorin ignoring his scowl. “You gave that lad permission to court Dis and I want to know that you aren’t going to go back on your word.”

“I’ve given my word, isn’t that enough?” Thorin asked bitterly.

“I wish it was.” Balin said quietly. “She deserves to be happy. You have chosen to harden your heart, but she has not. She does not wish to be alone and go to sleep at night in an empty bed.”

“I have no wish for her to be alone.” He paused, started to take a drink and then put the tankard back down. “There is no lack of _Khazâd_ for her to choose from. Any of them in Ered Luin would be honored to have her as their mate.”

Balin shook his head. “Were your born this dense Thorin, or did an anvil fall on your head at some point? It’s not that she doesn’t want a Dwarf for a mate, it’s that she has fallen in love with Hather.”

Thorin fiddled with his mug and frowned, his default setting when he did not agree but didn’t have a comeback. “Why a Man of all things?”

“Perhaps because he treats her differently. Perhaps because he could have his choice of females and wants her. Perhaps it is because the sky is blue. It is not for us to speculate why, all we have to understand is what they want.”

Thorin made a rude noise and finished his ale. Balin leaned over and looked at him squarely. “For once, Thorin it is not about you.”

“Who said it was?” He sounded hurt.

“You’ve been catered to since you were born.” He gave Thorin a smile and cocked his head to watch him. “It’s time you stopped being so selfish and put someone else’s needs ahead of your own.

“I’m not selfish,” Thorin said petulantly. 

“And the sun doesn’t rise in the East.” Balin smiled wryly. “Usually it’s tolerable because what you want is what is best for your family and your people, but not this time. It’s out of your hands and that is as it should be.”

“I…” Thorin started to interrupt.

Balin held up his finger. “Dis has chosen well. I’m not sure the lad will always be happy with his choice once he realizes he’s inherited you as well, but that is neither here nor there.”

Thorin tried to glower, but the smile in his eyes betrayed him. Slowly it eased down his face and found his lips. Slowly he smiled and then threw back his head and laughed. 

“Your point is well taken, Balin, but it does not mean that I have to like that my sister has taken up with a Man.”

Balin smiled. “You don’t have to like it – you just have to live with it.”

“I’ll live with it better if you buy me another round.”

“Done.”

 

**** 

Not a week later winter arrived with a vengeance. A bitter wind from the north drove a blizzard before it bringing more than a foot of snow. As if possessed by demons, the storm howled and spun the snow into twirling white ghosts that danced in the streets mocking the people who dared to look out of their windows. The chill bit deep even into the dwellings that had been chinked and patched. Thorin did not open the forge, but sat in front of the fire with the boys telling them stories of storms past.

Hather crashed in through the door slightly before mid-day. He didn’t even bother with the formality of a knock. He just threw himself inside as if propelled by the wind. He shook his winter cloak out and hung it to dry, kicked the snow from his boots and came into the great-room. 

He nodded cordially to Thorin and fielded the boys as they ran up. Kili begged to be picked up, seating himself on Hather’s forearm and looking at him intently. “It’s snowing,” he said seriously. “We can’t go out ‘cause we might freeze solid.” His huge brown eyes grew even larger. “And because the snow is this deep!” He threw his arms out to demonstrate smacking Hather solidly in the temple.

“I see, well in that case you and Fili had better stay in the house and help Uncle Thorin.” 

“He was tellin’ us stories,” Fili chimed in. “Uncle tells the best stories.” He smiled happily at Thorin. 

Kili tugged hard on Hather’s hair to get his attention. He looked very serious and then said in a loud whisper, “I like it when he stays here, but I’m not suppos’ta say it ‘cause he has’ta go to work.”

“Why aren’t you supposed to say it?” Hather asked. Kil shrugged. Hather laughed and put him down. “Well it sounds to me like it’s something he should be told, don’t you think?”

Giggling, Kili ran to Thorin and threw himself into his uncle’s lap, followed by an equally enthusiastic and painful Fili. 

Hather watched them for a moment, forgotten as they embraced. Thorin had one boy in each arm and was trying to look dignified while Kili gave him sticky kisses. Chuckling, he walked out to the kitchen to find Dis stirring a large pot. In contrast to the rest of the house the kitchen was warm and cozy.

“What’s in the pot?” he asked coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her shoulders.

She stepped away and threatened him with the spoon. “Venison stew. Now behave yourself; you forget we are merely courting.”

“Is that what you call what we did yesterday?” His lips found her cheek and she pressed into him for a moment before stepping away.

“What happened yesterday isn’t going to happen again for a while, so just get it out of you head.”

“Mmm, I like what’s in my head, milady.” He sighed wistfully. “But I guess it will have to keep me warm until we can be together again.”

Dis took the spoon out of the pot and rested it on a small stone. “As long as you are here, make yourself useful and bring some firewood in from the shed, if you will.”

Hather started around the corner of the great-room to get his cloak and realized that Thorin was sound asleep in his big chair with both boys napping in his lap. Stepping back into the kitchen he swept her into his arms, kissing her soundly before she could protest.

She started to push him away, but he held her and whispered in her ear. “The lads are napping with their uncle. No one will be the wiser if I steal a kiss or two from my lady.”

She melded into his arms, standing tiptoe to better reach his lips. He was warm and strong against her. The storm could rage outside but here she was safe and loved. She didn’t remember ever having been this happy.

Not wishing to chance waking Thorin and the boys to get his cloak, he braved the storm in his shirt sleeves gasping as the wind tore at him pushing him along. He filled his arms with firewood and hurried back to the house and the warmth of the kitchen and Dis. He was heartily glad to have a warm place to wait out the storm. He’d survived too many freezing and miserable in a camp with a tiny fire he had to guard to keep it from dying. 

Fili and Kili woke from their nap before their uncle and Hather kept the boys by having them try to teach him how to write runes. Fingers that could deftly write Sindarin were suddenly awkward with Khuzdul prompting the lads to have to explain and show him over and over how it should be done. 

His fumbling prompted Fili to exclaim with dismay, “You will never be a Dwarf, Mister Hather. You have to try harder!” This brought a chuckle from Thorin and a ring of laughter from the kitchen. 

“I think, Master Fili, that I am a bit tall to be a Dwarf, but I will do my best,” Hather responded.

Fili appeared to be pondering the height problem, then not coming up with a ready solution he abandoned it. “I guess you’ll just have to stay a Man then.”

Hather smiled. “I guess I will. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess Men are all right.” He turned to Thorin. “You like Men, don’t you, Uncle?”

Thorin looked stricken, but quickly passed it off as a smile. Hather thought he looked as if he had gas. He nodded once. “Men are all right.”

Fili took that as an affirmative and beamed up at Hather all dimples and blue eyes. “If we were created by Mahal where did Men come from?”

“That,” Hather said scooping him up, “is a story best told by the fire.”

The afternoon dragged on as the storm blew out its fury and then moved south leaving blue skies and sunshine in its wake. Dis had joined them, sitting next to Hather and listening to the tale of the creation of Men. The sunlight had distracted the boys and they grew less interested in the story as the sun outside brightened. Finally they could stand it no longer.

“Mum, can we go outside, just for a little while?” Fili asked politely. Kili stood on no such ceremony. He went over to the coat pegs next to the door and started jumping trying to reach his cloak. 

Hather rose and took it down for him along with his own cloak and Fili’s. He also took Dis’ cloak from the peg and carried it over to her. “Come out into the snow with us. It would do you good to get away from the stove and get a bit of fresh air.”

She really felt that she had work she was leaving, but she allowed him to slip the cloak around her shoulders. She tied it and pulled the hood up as they went through the kitchen to the back door. They stopped and he helped her tug on recalcitrant mittens, wondering how Kili suddenly sprouted three thumbs and no little fingers. Scarves were bound and then the two bundled children were released into the wild.

Hather drew in a deep breath of fresh air and looked at the sky. The blue was horizon to horizon. The storm had indeed passed and tomorrow would be easy hunting on horseback, with trails to follow and deer yarded up if he was fortunate. He heard screams followed by giggles and turned to find Fili enthusiastically trying to bury Kili in a snow drift. He scooped Kili up, swept him off and set him down.

“Why don’t you go get your uncle to help us build you lads snow ponies?” He grinned at the response and watched them storm the house determined to take a prisoner.

“Do you think he will come out?” He asked Dis.

She shrugged. “He will usually do anything for the boys, but we’ve not asked anything like this of him before. I do not believe Thorin has played in the snow since I was a child in Erebor.”

“Well, then it’s high time he did. He’s too young to act so old.”

She laughed delightedly. “You’re such a Man. My brother has seen 121 winters and I have seen 107.”

“Yes,” he said importantly. “But I am taller.” 

A commotion behind them saved her from having to find an answer. They turned in unison to see the boys leading a semi-reluctant Thorin out of the house. He looked at Hather and raised an eyebrow.

“What is this snow pony nonsense that you have thought up to send the children in to coerce me to leave my warm fire and come out here into the cold?”

“We want ponies!” the boys chorused. Kili went running in circles, plowing through the snow making what he considered pony noises, which mostly consisted of ear piercing shrieks. 

“Kili, stop torturing your pony and get over here and help,” Thorin ordered, warding off the flurry of enthusiastic child as he was trying to watch how Hather rolled the snow into a ball. 

It was simple enough and it didn’t take long before two identical “pony” bodies had been assembled. Sturdy branches served to support the neck and head. Snow was packed tight around the branches and Thorin showed his flair for carving by sculpting realistic faces on both ponies. They needed manes and Dis found some plants that had not died completely back and pushed the stalks in to form manes.

Fili chose the one with the green mane. He leaned over and sniffed the leaves and then grinned. “I’m gonna call mine Minty!”

Not to be outdone Kili clambered aboard his steed and examined the wilted flowers on his pony and finding them lacking loudly proclaimed her to be “Lemon Drop.”

Fili looked at the ponies critically and then up at his uncle. “We need reins, Unc’a Thorin.”

Thorin smiled fondly and shook his head. “These are magic ponies. They go wherever you tell them to go. You don’t need reins.”

Fili’s eyes widened and he got on his pony and pointed vaguely south and commanded. “Take me to Erebor!”

Thorin smiled again but this time it did not reach his eyes. “Someday, young Prince…someday…”

He was spared further reverie by a snowball hitting him in the back of the head. Thorin whirled to see a grinning Dis further arming herself. She quickly threw another, hitting him dead center in the chest. Another flew from behind, hitting him in the back. The game was afoot and he rose to the challenge. 

Scooping up a handful of snow he packed it loosely and lobbed it at Dis and then spun and threw one at Hather. He hit Dis in the middle of the back and Hather high on his chest. He was fast to scoop, pack and throw, improving quickly as he remembered the skills of his boyhood. Both bombarded him and each other as the battle heated up. The boys were shrieking with laughter, throwing snow patties, rather than balls, at one another and the adults.

Dis peppered Hather with snowballs, her aim spot on. When one loosely packed one hit him in the forehead he made a mental note to train her as an archer. She would be unstoppable. Thorin had speed and greater power along with a wicked sense of aim, Hather thought as he deflected yet another snowball aimed at his crotch, only to receive one in the chest. He looked up to see Thorin laughing, his long hair thick with snow winding up yet another missile. 

“Hey! Throw some at Dis, why don’t you?” He yelled, ducking.

Thorin grinned, “Because she will kill me.” He lobbed another snowball at the Ranger. “And you never ever attack the cook.”

“I knew you were smart, Brother,” Dis laughed, adding her attack to Thorin’s.

“Come on boys, help me here, it’s us against them!” Hather called, rallying his troops.

The boys ran over and defended him stoutly even if Kili’s method did involve running right up to his target and throwing point blank. On his second pass Thorin grabbed him and lifted him high over his head while he roared. Kili’s squeal of joy prompted Fili to run over for the same treatment, thereby putting an end to the war. A truce was declared and the five of them trooped into the house; wet, cold and happy.

The boys trooped in, were stripped by Dis and raced naked to stand shivering in front of the fire until the adults could dry them off and and get clothes on them. Once Kili was corralled and properly dressed Dis changed and then came out of her room carrying a pair of Thorin’s pants she’d been mending. He just stood looking at her as she held them out.

“Put these on and give me the wet ones so I can dry them by the stove.” She waved the pants. “Now!”

He looked over at Thorin who was toasting his frozen feet by the fire. He got one of those noncommittal male looks and decided to do as he was told. The pants, of course, did not even come close to fitting and there was much hilarity when he emerged. Even Thorin burst out laughing when he saw the Ranger holding up the far too short pants to keep them from falling off.

“Come here and let me take those in,” she commanded. Trying to look as if standing around in pants half way to his knees was normal he allowed her to take a tuck in each side so that he could move without the danger of indecent exposure.

“I’ll be wanting my own back as soon as possible,” he said. 

She smiled sweetly. “Of course, but I do like this new look of yours. Rather Hobbitish, I think.”

“And all I’m needing is hairy feet to go with the pants.”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “Not nearly warm enough, you need a pair of Thorin’s socks to keep your feet warm until yours dry.

“Oh no, I am not going to wear both short pants and your brother’s socks. I will just sit over by the fire.”

Dis shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back with tea in a minute.”

Hather plopped down in front of the fire, stretching his long legs out and wiggling his toes to help get the circulation back. Thorin chuckled and then leaned back pulling on his pipe. The boys were playing quietly with the horses Bifur had carved for them, worn out and ready for naps. The tea and scones Dis brought out were more than welcome and Thorin clutched his mug using the hot tea to warm his hands. Dis brought hers in and joined them in front of the fire. The boys had gone in their room and pulled out a blanket that they put in front of the fireplace to nap on. It was peaceful and Hather found himself drowsing off in his chair. 

“This is nice,” Hather murmured drowsily half asleep from the warmth fresh air, exertion and the heat of the fire.

“It is indeed,” Dis agreed sipping her tea, turning to him with a smile warmer than the hearth.

And Thorin snored.


	12. Chapter 12

The snow lingered and then melted taking the snow ponies with it to the great disappointment of both boys. The winds out of the north froze the thaw into ice making hunting more hazardous and game harder to track. Winter was upon them and game was getting more difficult to find. Hather was never free from the worry that soon he would nothing to show for a day’s hunt. 

Dis never seemed to judge. She just prepared whatever he could bring. She purchased meat, the flour to make bread and far too many vegetables. He’d been surprised that they had no smoke house and he had not seen a root cellar. There had been no garden even though there was space for one. He ran his fingers through his hair. How did these people feed themselves when they had not the most basic of preparations made?

He didn’t dare ask outright, but had found through bits and pieces that they were used to communal living and it was rare for a Dwarf family to be out on their own. For a thousand years they had mined and crafted selling their wares to buy what they did not produce. Since their population was more or less stable this had worked well, but now with the added strain of the refugees there was less to go around and something had to give. 

Those who could leave moved to make it less of a strain on the ones who had to stay behind. Thorin could have stayed in his Hall, but, like his fathers before him, he led by example. A king, who sat well fed on his throne, such as it was, hardly inspired those who were struggling. He left his father’s most trusted advisors to run what political business needed daily overseeing and a courier arrived periodically if there were any real decisions that needed to be made. Fortunately for Thorin’s nerves there were few. He was busy just trying to keep things together, refusing to admit that he had been far too optimistic about moving to town. 

Hather had ridden for most of the day with no sign of game. He stopped by the stream to let his horse drink. Dismounting, he led Aldamir along the stream bed looking for tracks. He found old boar spoor and deer scat so old it was crumbling. Dispirited he sat on a fallen log and ate the cheese and bread he’d packed. He was cold through and faced the prospect of returning empty handed for the first time.

He sat and stared at the frozen ground. When he had fallen in love with Dis it had not occurred to him that he would be feeding so many. He did not begrudge them the meat. He knew that Balin’s shop was scarce making a profit on the best day and that work at the forge was down. He suspected that Thorin went in many days rather than stay at home and face the knowledge that there was no work for him. The region was into the second winter of a two year drought. If spring didn’t bring rain there would be no town to see a third winter.

Aldamir nudged his shoulder and he scratched him under the chin. “I don’t know what to do, old friend. I thought living in the wild was hard, but now that I’ve lived in town it seems like a right holiday by comparison.”

“I don’t suppose you’d know of any Rohirric ways to find game?” The stallion shook his head and Hather laughed. “You’re right, I whine too much. Mum always said that if you make your bed you must sleep in it. Well, since I’ve both made it and slept in it, although I warrant we did little sleeping, I’ve made my choice.”

He rose and started to mount and then leaned against his horse. “It’s not that I’d take back what I promised, it’s just that sometimes I’m wondering if I’m up to it.” 

The response was a soft nicker and then silence as if promising to keep his secret. He rode until late afternoon and then turned back empty handed. He put Aldamir in his stall, fed and groomed him and then headed back completely dispirited to see Dis. 

He was very late. Supper was long over and she met him at the door fretting. He hugged her, nodded to the others and then allowed himself to be steered to the table to be served and warmed with a mug of hot tea. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. I couldn’t find any game today either. I am going to have to go into the wild away from the town. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I may be away for several days.”

Dis set the plate she’d been keeping hot in front of him and pulled up a chair next to him. “You don’t have to do this.” Her voice was low but carried into the great-room to the others.

Hather took her hand. “I promised I would take care of you and the lads. The food that you have put by will not last. Merchants are charging two prices for the poorest cuts of meat.”

“It is true that they don’t hesitate to charge us more when they can, but we can buy enough to do us until you can find game.”

“I can find nothing here. The men from this village have killed or driven off most of the animals that were here when I came. They know nothing of what and how to hunt. Never have I had such difficulty taking a deer or a boar. Rabbits are nowhere to be found and birds have deserted these woods. I have not even seen a hawk for two days.” 

The Ranger spooned up the stew noting that it was well padded with barley. He looked into worried blue eyes and smiled. “It is not dire yet, my love. It’s just that I need to hunt out of the reach of the town-folk. Do not worry about me, I will be back soon. Remember, I am more used to living in the woods than under a roof.”

“I know that in my head, but in my heart…” Her voice was soft, her blue eyes dark with worry.

He reached out to smooth back an errant curl. “If you are to be wife to a Ranger, you have to learn to trust that I will return.”

“I trust you. I do not trust the things that walk in the wood these days. Something moves in the shadows, I can feel it in my bones. The market is full of whispers of Orcs, or worse.”

He chuckled. “Well there is little that is worse than an Orc, but it is rare for them to venture this far south into civilized lands.” He tilted her chin and kissed her gently. “And they do not travel alone or silently. Should I chance upon them, no warg can outrun Aldamir. I will be safe enough.”

He was startled when Thorin came out to the table and took the seat next to Hather. He looked at the Ranger and bowed his head a little. “You have done all you can to keep up your end of the bargain you made. We can ask no more of you.”

Hather appreciated Thorin’s words, but he held up his hand and said, “You ask nothing of me. What I do is because it is part of who I am. I will be in no danger and the worst that will happen is a cold night’s sleep. If I go north I may be able to take a red deer or a boar.” 

Thorin shook his head. “We can get by. We will go neither hungry nor cold. If anything it is my responsibility to hunt. Not yours.” 

“I see. So you would leave your forge and go hunting on foot for game that I have not been able to find horseback within a day’s ride.” It sounded harsher than was intended, his words grating on Thorin like salt in a raw wound.

Thorin’s fist slammed down on the table startling everyone. “You think I cannot hunt and provide for my family, Ranger?” His bellow could be heard in the street. He was standing and glaring at Hather, shoulders squared, challenging him.

Hather looked up at the king and heaved a sigh. It would not be the first or the last time he wondered about the bargain he’d made having included her extremely short-tempered brother. 

“I don’t believe I said anything of the kind. I was pointing out that I am better equipped than you to go hunting.” He winced when he realized that this statement of fact only made Thorin more angry. The king was now clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Thorin, please…” Dis said urgently. “Be reasonable.” The look he gave her said that he had absolutely no intention of being reasonable. He was as worried as Hather was and his fears were rising to the top as anger. He had to struggle to contain himself.

Hather shook his head. “Let us take this out of doors, Thorin.” He rose and put his hand up with Dis and the others started to stand. “Just the two of us.”

He went out quickly and Thorin raced to keep up, barely managing to pull his cloak off the peg as he exited the door and slammed it behind him.

Hather was waiting for him near the road. Thorin was livid at having had to work to catch up. He stopped next to the Ranger and glared at him from the tops of his eyes. “You’ve chosen to fight in the street?”

“No, I have chosen _not_ to fight the brother of my intended,” he said quietly. “I have chosen to go down to the pub and drown my worries in ale. I would prefer that you accompany me so that we may discuss this as befits a king and a Ranger.” 

Thorin snorted. “You think you can buy forgiveness with ale?”

Hather resisted the urge to pound him into the ground like a fence post. “No. I’m not asking forgiveness for speaking the truth. I am hoping that some – no make that a lot – of ale will take the edge off that temper of yours and we can talk as kin.”

“You,” Thorin said pointedly, “are not my kin.”

“Like it or not, I will be.” He frowned at the king trying not to appear as if he was looking down at him. “I am not your choice and you are not mine. But for the sake of your sister and the boys we must make the best of it.”

Hather started down the street and turned in at the entrance to the inn, then to a table in back. “I know the ale is not the best, but it’s quieter here and we can talk in private.”

Thorin looked around at the nearly empty pub area. “Aye, that we can.” He turned back to the Ranger. “Since you appear to think that we have something to discuss.”

Having scored two mugs of ale as he went past the bar, Hather downed a long swallow and wiped his lips. “For starters I’d like to discuss your temper, Thorin.”

“What of it?” the king snapped.

“It is very short and sometimes there is entirely too much of it. I anticipate a long life in your company and would appreciate it if I did not feel that I was inviting a fist fight every time I say something that you take exception with.” Hather leaned on his elbows and looked at Thorin with exasperation.

“You insult me and find me at fault when I rise against it?” Thorin glared at him, eyes burning in the dim light.

“I had no intention of insulting you in your own house. I am certain that you are an excellent hunter – when there is game to be taken.” His shoulders dropped and he looked at the table, making wet rings with the bottom of his mug. “You do not understand how bad it is out there right now. It is not a question of skill, the best hunter could not find game within walking distance of town.”

Thorin remained silent, gazing into the ale in his mug.

Hather continued. “I have never seen it this bad. It is as if all the game has vanished. I am not even seeing tracks. I am seeing sign that there has been a great deal of hunting, whether the game was wiped out or chased away I have no way of knowing. I will try my luck further north where there are no settlements.” He looked up at Thorin. “It is my responsibility; do not seek to take it from me merely because you seem to think that you are the one who has to do everything.”

Thorin’s anger had dissipated leaving him with a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing it to go away. He gave the Ranger a wry smile and took a swallow of ale. “I...I am not used to sharing responsibility.”

“Nor am I. If we do not agree to some sort of truce we are going to go through life at each other’s throats. I do not want to have to wonder if you are going to bury an axe in my forehead every time I disagree or inadvertently piss you off.”

The king chuckled. “Aye, one Bifur is enough.”

“Speaking of which, when are they coming back down the mountain? The bear sleeps hard now. He is too large for the townfolk to try, but with the help of the others we could bring him down. He will feed us for a long time.”

“I had expected them by now. The snow fell early and heavy. It may be that the mountain pass is not yet safe.” He finished his ale and looked expectantly at Hather. “One more only. My temper is what it is and a hangover will only make it worse.”

Hather grinned. “Do you think there’s a chance that I can get you to stop threating to fight me every time you get angry?”

Thorin pondered it. “Probably not.”

“How about if you stop being irritated that Dis chose me for her mate?”

“Even less likely.”

“What can I do to get on your good side, Thorin?” He asked trying not to laugh.

“Buy me another ale and stop being a Man.” Thorin leaned back looking smug. He loved winning.

“Well, at least I can do one -- the other you are just going to have to learn to live with.” He got up and took their empty mugs back to the bar for a refill.

Thorin watched the Ranger. If he was a Dwarf he would have said that his sister had chosen well. Still, it was not his fault that he had been born a Man and not a Dwarf…if only he wasn’t so bloody tall…

 

****** 

 

Hather packed for the journey and stopped by to see Dis. She was trying not to act worried, but her nervousness showed in the way she practically shoved a wrapped package of food at him. He wanted to tell her that he had food, but his nose told him that the scent of spice and honey emanating from the package was to insure that he would not go without a treat. He loved her so much at that moment he thought his heart would explode. Heedless of Thorin’s presence, he lifted her up and kissed her soundly.

She stood tiptoe to hug him. “I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you. My heart will be chilled until I can return to your side.” He glanced sideways at Thorin, smiling inwardly to see that he’d provoked the reaction he’d hoped for. The king looked as if he’d just bitten into something unpleasant. He winked at Thorin and then turned his attention to the boys.

He lifted them both, one in each arm, perching them on his elbows. “And you, my fine lads, must see to your mother and uncle while am gone. Do you think you can do that?”

“I can,” Fili said too quietly. He was not used to people who went away and it frightened him a little. 

Kili was too young to worry about such things. “I take care a’unca,” he volunteered, his dark eyes sparkling. 

Hather kissed them both. “I promise that I will return. Have I ever gone back on a promise?” Fili shook his head solemnly and Hather smiled. “And I won’t this time either. Keep an eye on Kili and listen to your mum.”

He set them both down, gathered Dis in for one last hug and then was gone before she could say anything else. She looked at Thorin who was watching her with what she thought might be a wistful expression. She tried to smile, but failed.

“He will be back. He’s a Ranger and far too stubborn to do anything else.” And he’ll return if only to irritate me, he thought with no little amusement.

 

Dwalin had the forge heated when Thorin arrived. He had laid out his tools and was inspecting an axe he had nearly finished. It was a working axe, not a battle axe, but it was large and double bitted for felling trees. He looked up when the king entered.

“Thought you were taking the day off,” he said gruffly, blue eyes glinting with amusement.

“The Ranger stopped by on his way out to hunt. He had to say goodbye to Dis and the lads.”

“Did you give him a kiss on the way out?” Dwalin’s grin was a massive as he was.

“One more word out of you and you will have to have the healer remove that axe from your arse.” The retort had more humor than venom. 

Dwalin swung the axe testing the balance. “I heard more talk of Orcs last night.”

Thorin snorted. “When Men drink they tell tales. There has never been an Orc raid near the Blue Mountains, why would they suddenly come now? There are easier pockets to pick than these towns of Men.”

“The tales are that they are seeking something.” He shook his head hating to pass on gossip, but with the game gone from the area he felt there was something wrong.

Thorin picked up the sword he was working and laid it into the fire. “They are always seeking something. They are thieves and raiders. We have little enough here and far too many weapons for their liking. They may sniff around The Shire though. Hobbits are gentlefolk and not fast with steel like Men.”

Dwalin nodded. The tales troubled him more than he’d let on. Orcs were unpredictable especially if they were charged with a task. The black forces had been defeated long ago but like all things dark he felt that they had started to creep back, seeping in from around the edges. 

The day went quickly with repairs for Dwalin to work on and a sword that Thorin was pushing to finish. It was long and utilitarian made after the fashion of Men with none of the runes and decorative tooling that Dwarves would have insisted on. Thorin thought it was an ugly thing, but even so he poured his skill into it as it was not the weapon’s fault that it was being crafted for a Man. 

Supper was quiet and even the boys were subdued, forgoing their usual squabbling and doing their lessons without complaint. Thorin noted that the Ranger seemed even more of a presence by his absence than when he was at the table. Even he found the empty place at the table disconcerting. Apparently even if you were not overly fond of someone you could get used to having them around.

Dis moved like a ghost, even her footsteps appeared muffled. She made food, served everyone, taking nothing for herself and then disappeared into her room only to reappear later to clear the table. There was no dessert, but no one spoke of it, not even Kili. He just sat there with his dark eyes full of the questions that he didn’t understand the answers to. Fili clung closer to him than usual, helping him write his runes and trying to cheer him up.

Dwalin and Balin left early claiming that it had been a long day and they both just wanted their beds. It was a lie, of course, but it was better than staying to see Dis so dispirited. Having the Ranger gone seemed to bring back all of the memories and pain of losing Fendri. She sat with the boys watching them as if she was memorizing every word and movement. When it came time to tuck them in she curled up between them unable to make herself leave them in the dark.

Thorin sat by the fire and smoked his pipe and thought. He wished that just once thinking about a problem would solve it. He had gotten used to their lives. Each day was as the one before it, footsteps along a familiar path. No surprises, nothing to cause upset to plans. It was comfortable and predictable and, he had to admit, boring. Then what seemed like overnight a tall brown-eyed stranger make himself a part of the family, a part not so easy dispensed with. What would happen when the Ranger was called to duty? Would he desert his family, or would he stay to defend them in their home. No one knew the ways of Rangers, they were mysterious coming and going unseen most of the time. This one had not yet had his metal tested as far as Thorin was concerned. He was a sword untried in battle, a cipher and…a worry.

 

Hather watched the flames of his campfire flicker and dance in the breeze. He’d forgotten how hard the ground was and how cold. He had taken one small deer that he’d surprised by a stream and had seen several that seemed unusually wary, bolting before he got within bow range. He was hopeful that seeing game again meant that the villagers had over-hunted, probably trying to prepare for winter. It meant that hunting would be harder for him, with longer trips, but at least there was meat to be had. 

He’d found some breadroot tubers that he’d dug out and roasted in the fire while the venison was cooking. They were gritty with ash and the venison alternately charred and half raw. He had gotten spoiled with good meals and a soft bed. Time was when he would have thought this was a feast and laying his bedroll against the leeward side of an overhang the height of comfort. He laughed and put more wood on the fire.

“It would appear,” he said softly to the flames, “that Hather son of Haldor has become civilized.”

With that, he lay down, pulled up his blanket and willed himself to sleep.

 

Dis put Thorin’s breakfast in front of him and turned back to the kitchen without a word. He reached out and caught her wrist, holding her briefly.

“He will return. It’s merely a hunting trip.” His voice was softer than usual as he tried to find words that would be reassuring.

“And Fendri was just going to Harlond sell our wares.” She pulled from his grip and dashed into the kitchen.

He looked at the porridge and set his spoon back down. There had been no way to know that the rains had loosened the rocks that lined the road. It was over before anyone could have done anything and Fendri lay broken under the weight of his wagon. He was a merchant and not a warrior, but Thorin had blamed himself all the same. Trading with the Elves was bad luck and he had approved the shipment. It felt the same as if he had ordered Fendri into battle. It was his decision and his responsibility and his fault that Dis’ husband was dead leaving her with a small child and a new baby. He had so few to be responsible for and yet the weight was crushing. How had his grandfather carried the load of an entire kingdom?

Kili began to fuss and Fili got up and went to comfort him. The stress was hard on the wee ones too. Thorin held out his arm.

“Come here and help me eat my breakfast, lads.”

“Why?” Fili asked puzzled.

“Because I need you to…”


	13. Chapter 13

The shadows were growing long when Hather turned Aldamir toward the little cottage. The boys heard the horse and shrieking an unintelligible welcome barreled out of the house forgetting cloaks and in Kili’s case…boots. 

Hather jumped down and swept them up, covering them with his cloak and carrying them to the door to greet Dis. She stood there looking at him as if her were a ghost come back from the dead. Her eyes were wide and one hand was on her heart, a cooking spoon hung forgotten in the other.

Hather went into the house and set the boys down. He lifted her into his arms, grinning and laughing. “I told you I would return. I have no tales to tell, but I brought back venison…and my heart” She grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss so bold that even the boys looked away. 

“I told you I would return and so I have.” He tried to smile but she kissed him again and he gave it up and just held her close surrendering to the relief of her fears.

When the storm had passed he set her down. “I brought cobnuts and chestnuts, and plate mushrooms too.” He smiled at the boys. “Tonight I will show you how to crack the cobnuts so mum can bake with them.” 

That sent the boys sprinting for the door again. Dis snagged Kili on the way past. “Boots, Kili. Go and put your boots on.” He made a face but dashed to his room and then moments later raced out the door again.

Hather laughed and said, “I’d better go or they will be trying to climb Aldamir. He’s patient but I don’t want anyone to get stepped on.”

It only took a few minutes to unload the horse. He hung the deer in the shed and then returned to the house. “I have to see to my horse. I’ll be back for supper. After last night’s meal I hesitate to travel so far I can’t return to eat.”

He kissed her again and then mounted and rode away. Her eyes followed him until her turned the corner and was lost to view. She was relieved he was back and felt foolish that she had been so worried. She had not been worried the day Fendri left never to return. Now she never took any parting for granted. The boys started quarreling over the bags of nuts, so she hurried into the house to mediate.

When Thorin came home he knew immediately that the Ranger had returned. Dis was in the kitchen singing and the boys had a game going of who could sink the cobnut into the basket Dis had placed on a low table by the fire. Fili was making every third shot and Kili had adopted the questionable but effective method of simply running over and slamming his nut into the basket. 

One of Fili’s nuts bounced into the fire and Thorin bent to fish it out for him. He moved the grating a little closer to the fire. “Have a care, lads. Don’t get too close to the hearth.”

Fili gave him a huge smile. “We won’t. I’m winning and Kili’s cheating.”

“Nuh uh,” Kili protested as he stood next to the basket and dropped his cobnut in. “I’m littlest so I gots to get closer.” He beamed up at Thorin, proud of his logic. 

Thorin smiled at him. “You won’t always be the littlest so take advantage of it now.”

Neither of the boys understood the sub-context and continued to argue over Kili’s method. They grow up so fast, Thorin thought. If I could, I would keep them this age forever so they’d be safe. He sat down and closed his eyes lulled by the sounds of his family.

Supper was a lively affair. Everyone was talking at once, even Balin who was usually more circumspect. It was good news that game had not entirely left the area and that Hather had seen no sign of Orcs. Thorin was more than relieved that the rumors were just that. Orcs had stolen the lives of too many members of his family and he didn’t want to face them again until he had an army behind him.

As they were eating, Hather waited for a break in Dwalin’s latest tale. “Are Bofur and the others due any time soon?” he asked. The boys perked up at the mention. A coal delivery would mean a visit from Bifur and a new toy or two. 

“They should be here by next week. It will be too dangerous after that to travel until spring. Did you have a concern?” Thorin asked breaking off another chunk of bread.

“In a manner of speaking. We should take the bear while we have help. He’s big, bigger than I first thought. He will keep us in meat for a long time with plenty to send back to Ered Luin.” Hather toyed with his mug. He wasn’t sure about taking on a large bear, even one in hibernation with untested companions. 

Dwalin turned to face him. “How large is this bear?”

“I’d say he goes close to a thousand pounds.”

Dwalin’s face froze. “ _umagar_ ,” he said softly.

“Aye,” agreed Thorin. “A great bear indeed.

“He won’t go down easily even if he is in his winter sleep. He will wake and want to take us with him.” Hather said earnestly. “Have any of you hunted bear before?

“Aye, we all have, but none so large as this one.” Dwalin replied. “Still with all of us we should be able to get him down quickly.”

Thorin grimaced. “It will be hard dirty work and we have to move quickly so that the meat doesn’t spoil.”

Hather looked at them, “Have you a smokehouse, or at least a fire pit?”

Thorin shook his head. “I fear not. Dwarrowfolk usually trade for what they need.”

Hather took a swallow of tea and contemplated that statement for a moment before speaking. “If you are to survive you have to stop relying on others and not think so much in trade, but more how you can be self-sufficient. No matter, I will inspect the shed and see if it will do for a temporary smokehouse. It looks solid enough to do this once. Come spring it would do to till the side yard and make preparations for a winter crop such as potatoes or parsnips.” He looked up to see the storm gathering in Thorin’s eyes and stopped talking.

“Would you have us dig in the ground like Men and Hobbits?” His voice was soft but his manner was anything but.

“If Men and Hobbits are eating and you are not, then – yes, I would have you dig in the ground. Even the Elves who are above almost everything grow their own food. How is it that Dwarrowfolk alone consider food growing and gathering to be beneath them when they still like to eat?” Hather met Thorin’s gaze squarely.

Dis placed her hand on Thorin’s wrist but he shook it off. “You insult me in my own home?!” His voice was thunder rolling across the table making the boys pull back eyes wide.

Hather regarded him placidly. “I offered no insult. I am stating the truth. If you lived in Ered Luin it would be different, but here you have no one for support. Men don’t help their own let alone outsiders. If you look for charity here you may as well look for gold among the toadstools in the forest for your chances of finding it will be about the same.” 

Thorin was not sure what to say in reply. His temper was up but it had no place to go. He looked at Balin. 

“He makes a valid point, Thorin.” Balin said quietly. “We came here from the Blue Mountains to try to ease things, but we cannot expect Men to conform to our ways. Perhaps it would not hurt us to try our hand at growing things.”

Dwalin made a strangled noise deep in his throat and Balin burst into unexpected laughter at the thought of his brother gardening. Dwalin gave him a dirty look and then grinned.

“I wager I’d kill more than I grew,” he said wryly.

Thorin chuckled at that, but the humor never reached his eyes. “You would probably scare the seeds to death before you ever got them planted.”

“Yeah well, you would just intimidate them to death.” Dwalin replied balefully.

Hather sat here with his head in his hand while his soon-to-be-in-laws vied with each other on who could kill a plant faster while Fili and Kili alternated between demanding to plant seeds and to kill them. They were very competitive, now if they would just compete in the right direction…

Fortunately for Hather’s sanity, the nut cracking went splendidly with only one squashed finger. Dwalin could crack them by mashing them between his hands, but the mere mortals had to use other methods. The Ranger showed the boys how to roll the nuts in a piece of cloth and then pound them until the shells were cracked. Well that was the theory at any rate. The reality was more of whacking and chasing errant nuts as they made escape attempts across the floor. The fact that Dwalin was bent on eating anything that came his way was not helpful either as Kili decided that feeding his cousin was more fun than filling up the bowl that Dis had provided. They both stopped when Dis reminded them that if they ate all the nuts then there would be none for sweet scones. 

It had been a very long day and the Ranger had stayed later than he’d wished simply to keep Dis company. She had barely let him out of her sight and he wished desperately that he did not have to go back to his room at the inn. Customs be damned, why couldn’t he just stay and stop all the dancing around the fact that they were as good as married. Why did he have to “court” her? Why couldn’t they just be wed and get the inevitable over with? 

After the boys were in bed Hather headed for the door but was stopped by Thorin. The king peered up at him from the tops of his eyes.

“Do not challenge me in my own house!” 

“I did not offer a challenge. I will not offer a challenge because you are the brother of my intended – and because, believe it or not, I respect you, Thorin son of Thrain.” He looked at Thorin, trying not to look down at him. What the king lacked in height he more than made up for in presence and was difficult to think of him as being smaller.

Thorin’s glare did not waver but he didn’t argue, so Hather continued. “If you are going to live among Men you have to adopt some of their ways in order to survive. I am not a farmer either, but I believe I could grow potatoes if it meant feeding my family. I have to change my ways in order to be with Dis. Sometimes you have to bend to take care of those you love.”

“Do not lecture me.” The thunder was back in Thorin’s voice.

“I am not and I only offer my opinion and being a Man I know what you think of that. No one is saying that the king should plant potatoes. I will see to it because no one cares if a Man tills the soil. It is late. I am tired and I probably speak foolishness.”

Dis magically appeared at his elbow, linking her arm with his, presenting a united front. “We will do the planting, brother. Do not trouble yourself over it. You have your trade and we will do what we must. If a Ranger from the North plants certainly things are sure to grow.”

Thorin was wise enough to know when he was outnumbered. He nodded. “Very well, garden if you must. Do not expect me to grub in the dirt.”

Hather bowed to him. “We will plant the finest garden this side of The Shire and with luck we won’t kill it.” With that he made his exit.

Dis stood there glaring at her brother. “If you were not king I would put my boot up your backside.”

He snorted and walked away. When he heard her behind him he walked just the slightest bit faster. 

 

******** 

 

Hather spent the next few days chinking the shed to make it nearly airtight for smoking the bear meat. In truth he felt just the tiniest bit guilty because while his day was spent laboring, it was also filled with laughter and love. He couldn’t help thinking that year after year locked away at a dark forge straining muscles to the breaking point must surely have worked darkness into Thorin’s heart the same way as he worked steel into the iron of the blades he fashioned. It was a somber thought. To go from being a prince to a blacksmith was a fall that not many would have the strength to survive. The Ranger thought that he should not begrudge the king his pride. There must have been times when it was all that he had.

Hather stretched up to pack mud into the cracks in the roof of the shed. Dis had poured hot water on the patch of clay soil and the boys had enthusiastically dug it up and looked as if they had gotten more on themselves than in the pail. They were having a grand time so neither adult felt the need to do more than laugh and remember a time when they too wore enough dirt to be banned from the house.

“Was Thorin ever young?” Hather asked, ducking a chunk of mud that refused to stay in place.

Dis looked up at him in confusion. “Young?”

“You know, play in the dirt, laugh…”

“He was never really allowed to be a child because he was The Heir.” She got a faraway look on her face and smiled slightly. “There were times when he was able to get away and join our games for a while. He used to laugh so hard when Frerin would try to best him at dueling or wrestling. In truth he let him win much of the time.” 

She looked out at Fili and Kili playing tag in the yard. “They remind me so much of Thorin and Frerin sometimes. We used to play games where the grownups wouldn’t see and stop us. It’s a miracle none of us were killed climbing onto railings and up walls.

“After the dragon took Erebor the games stopped for good. Thorin was only 24 and Frerin was 19. They were so young to have to grow up. I was protected from much of what happened and the aftermath, but they were not spared. I saw the joy in their eyes die little by little. When Frerin was killed in battle I think Thorin buried his heart with him. Try not to judge him too harshly.” She smiled softly at Hather, who reached out to gather her into his arms.

“I try not to judge him at all. He’s a good man, if you will excuse the expression. Even he does make me want to take one of his axes to his head now and again.”

She laughed heartily. “He affects everyone that way. Don’t let anyone know I said this but he and Dwalin have gotten into rousing fist fights now and again when he’s pushed too hard at the forge. I expect the two of you will go at it someday.”

“Do I have to let him win?”

She shook her head. “No. Dwalin doesn’t either. You should see them afterward looking like two naughty schoolboys. But don’t think that I’m looking forward to patching the two of you up any time soon.”

“Then I will make sure that he has no cause to fight with me. Besides, I’ve seen him in action and have no wish to be on the receiving end of those fists.” He kissed her and lifted the bucket. “Now I have a great and pressing need for more mud. Do you think the lads will mind digging some more?”

“I doubt that I can stop them.”

After chinking the shed came gathering wood for smoking. This chore proved to be as popular with Fili and Kili as the mud daubing. They ran around the woods like quail chicks, giggling and grabbing sticks for use in sword fights before bringing them back to the pile. Dis wore an old apron and put it to use as a basket to carry twigs. Unlike the boys, she was more careful to pick the hard wood that Hather pointed out. Kili dragged over anything that he found and had to be strongly dissuaded from adding an exceedingly dead snake to his collection.

“But I want it,” he’d protested all big dark eyes and sorrow.

“It’s dead, love,” Dis told him gently.

“Will it…always be dead?” He looked longingly in the direction of the corpse and sniffed hard.

“Yes, Kili. Dead is forever.”

“Like Father?” Fili came up and put his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

Hather saw Dis’ eyes mist over. Before she could speak, he strode over and lifted both boys high. “Death comes to us all, my lads, but there is no reason to leave Mr. Snake to lay forgotten in the woods. Come and let us give him a proper burial.”

Questions about death were immediately forgotten with the prospect of a snake funeral. He looked at Dis and saw a small smile of gratitude as he got his axe out and headed for the snake trailed by the boys now smiling cheerfully.

A suitably long grave was dug and the deceased snake carefully lifted and placed within it. Fili solemnly said that he thought the snake must have been very brave and died in a fierce battle. “He will go to the Halls of Waiting won’t he?”

Hather nodded. “I am certain that he will. All animals have spirits and they go to their own Hall.”

“Father is in The Halls of Waiting,” Fili said quietly.

“Yes, he is for he was a fierce warrior.” He smiled at Fili. “You are fierce and will be a warrior too someday. You will make him proud.”

“I will?” He looked first at Hather and then to his mother, hope shining on his dirty face.

They both nodded. “You are very fierce Fili, son of Fendri,” Hather told him. “Someday soon you will fight by my side.”

Dis smiled at him. “You will be the Lion of Erebor. In time, you will be King and be a very great warrior, indeed.”

“Me too…” Eager not to be left out of the discussion Kili was yanking at Hather’s breeches.

He knelt next to him. “You too, young prince. You will help Fili rule. You will be his right hand. You will be the eagle who watches over the King.” 

He received a hard sticky hug and then Kili raced off to explore the idea of being an eagle, while Fili pondered how to be an animal he’d heard of but never seen.

Dis watched them go and turned to Hather. “He won’t be there, you know,” she said softly. 

He frowned, not understanding.

“Their father.” She looked at the sky and then back at Hather. “He was not a warrior, he was a merchant. He did not die in battle, but in a stupid accident with a wagon.”

Hather thought a moment. “We all have our stories about what happens…afterwards, but none of us really knows. When Anarórë died I prayed that she would go to The Summerland. I hope she did. All that we can know for certain as that we loved them while they were here.”

He gathered her into his arms holding her tight. “I will love you forever, Dis.”

She burrowed her face into his chest, listening to the soft thump of his strong heart. “And I will love you.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Enough talk of death. We have two boys to keep up with and wood to gather.”

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. “Indeed we do.”

When they’d carried the wood back, Dis went in to start supper and Hather and the boys stayed in the yard. He needed to chop the wood into chips which occupied his hands but not his mind. He watched the boys play-fighting with sticks and shook his head. They were going to grow up too soon like all children did these days. Somehow the dark could never be kept away for very long.


	14. Chapter 14

Hather was toward the end of a day-long hunt and near the road when he heard the clatter of a cart. Curious, he turned Aldamir to see who it was. To his delight he recognized the faces of the Dwarves on the seat of the wagon. Bofur’s hat made it impossible to mistake him for anyone else. The Ranger put his horse into a lope and caught up.

“Ho the wagon!” Hather yelled. “What news from Ered Luin?”

Bofur grinned. “We’re still there and still mining coal. No one in the Blue Mountains is going hungry.” He elbowed Bombur who grunted and punched him.

Bifur leaned over and gave him an animated and incomprehensible greeting that Bofur translated. “Hello. Good seeing you again. How goes the hunting?” 

Hather nodded to acknowledge the greeting. “It’s poor.” He pointed to the carcass draped across the horse’s haunches. “This small deer is all I have to show for a day’s hunt.”

Bombur leaned across Bofur nearly squashing him. “We can take our meals at the inn.”

Hather laughed and shook his head. “No need for tht, Master Bombur, we have plenty. With luck by tomorrow night we will have more meat than even you can eat.”

Bofur and Bifur broke into laughter and even Bombur grinned. “I doubt that, Ranger. He can eat half a hog.”

“Well, it’s not a hog that I speak of. How about a bear, heavy with winter fat and sleeping in his cave just waiting to be taken?” Hather smiled, waiting to see what their reaction would be.

Bofur’s eyes widened. “A bear you say?”

“Fat and sleepy and waiting for hunters to come along and send his spirit on its way.”

There was some discussion in Khuzdul about the bear with Bifur and Bombur apparently for it while Bofur was more cautious. Bifur kept pointing adamantly to his boar spear sticking up at the back of the seat. They were all armed because no road was safe, but Bofur was a peace-loving soul even though he would later admit that his mouth started watering at the mere thought of bear steak.

Abruptly the appetites won out and an agreement was struck. “Bear it is,” Bofur declared.

“Good,” Hather grinned. “I will ride ahead and tell Dis of your arrival. There will be venison tonight for supper.”

Bifur signed excitedly. “He says anything that the Princess cooks will be welcome.”

“I’ll tell her,” he called back as he turned Aldamir toward home.

“Princess Dis.” It sounded odd when he said it. Could he really be set to marry a princess? Aldamir jogged along ignoring the running conversation his rider was having with himself. He was used to Men and their odd ways. The scent he was picking up from the West troubled him, but it was distant enough so that he could ignore it and head for home. He picked up his speed a little glad to be putting distance between it and himself.

 

Dis was pleased to get some warning about their guests. She kissed Hather and then busied herself preparing supper. He would have helped, but she shooed him out telling him that he was only in the way. He left reluctantly, pondering the whole concept that he would have gladly spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen helping her cook. He shook his head and smiled. His father would not have understood it any better than Thorin, but his mother had always told him that if he truly fell in love he would find himself changed forever. As usual, his mother had been right.

He stabled and groomed Aldamir and then walked over to the forge. Thorin was working with his back to the Ranger, but Dwalin saw him and nodded. He waited patiently until Thorin dipped the sword he was crafting into the barrel of water to cool it and then cleared his throat.

Thorin turned and acknowledged him. “Afternoon, what brings you to the forge?”

“News that your coal is arriving shortly. I passed the wagon on the road into town. They are hungry for bear meat. Will you be able to get away for a day of hunting?”

Dwalin had laid down his work and stepped forward. “Aye, we can get away.”

If Thorin objected to Dwalin answering for him he did not show it. “We will unload the coal tomorrow, clean the wagon, make preparations and go in two days.”

Hather nodded. “The weather looks to be with us, signs are that it will stay cold and clear.

“Good to hear.” With that Thorin turned back to his work ignoring the Ranger. 

He nodded at Dwalin and left the forge. He had no real preparations to make other than the boring routine of sharpening his sword and testing his bow. He had a good supply of arrows. It was always best to try to take a bear down at distance. He was hoping to give him a critical wound right away and then exit the den so that he could be taken down with the bow. He wondered which one of the Dwarves would volunteer to go into the den. His coin was on Dwalin who appeared not to have backed down from any encounter in his life.

At the house he checked his hides, added ash to the most recent barrel and finished butchering the deer and went in the back door. He washed up and entered the house proper. He loved coming in through the kitchen. It was a feeling left over from his boyhood and his association with it was always one of warmth, good smells and tasty treats. He wished his mother could meet Dis. They would get on famously. He had a momentary glimpse of them laughing and swapping recipes and undoubtedly sharing embarrassing stories about his childhood. 

She was making scones, her front dusted with wheat and acorn flour. She smiled at him when he came in and he started to laugh. She looked up at him puzzled until he wiped the flour off her cheek.

“You look like you have as much on you as you do in the bowl.”

“Ach, I dropped the shale cursed pot of flour and it flew all over. I think I got most of it up now, though.”

“All except for the big splotch on yer rear, my love,” he laughed, taking a swipe at the white mark at the back of her dress.

She yelped and turned to threaten him with the fork in her hand. “Don’t you be taking such liberties, Ranger. I’ll have you know I’m a promised woman and I’ll not be made sport of by the likes of you.”

“Oh, promised are you? And what lad would be so bold as to court the daughter of a king?” He moved around the baking table and crossed his arms as if to challenge her.

“Oh he’s a fine strapping lad, not afraid of anything, not even a king. He’s a mighty hunter who rides a fine red stallion and hunts boar and bear.”

“A stallion you say. And is this fine strapping lad a stallion himself?”

“Oh I blush to tell you, sir, of his power and stamina. There is naught like him in any land.” She batted her eyes and looked up at him fetchingly.

“Have a care, lest your praises go to his head, milady.” He bent down and lifted her until she was eyelevel. “He is already giddy in her presence. Any more compliments and he would be unable to concentrate on anything except the blue of her eyes and the fairness of her features.”

She started to reply, but he claimed her lips and her words turned into a soft moan. Her tongue found his and sparred for a few seconds before retreating. He kissed her again but she refused to part her lips. He sighed. She was right – this was not the time. 

He kissed her nose, charmingly dotted with flour. “Someday, Princess Dis, you will have servants to do these chores for you.”

She smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “What, and miss kisses in the kitchen? I think not. Now put me down or dinner won’t be ready and I will have a whole house full of growling bears.”

He grinned at her. “Even more than you think. I found a wagon of coal on it’s way to town and along with the coal were three hungry Dwarves.”

Her eyes widened. “Then I have even more to do. Will you cut the meat up while I make more scones?”

“It will be a pleasure, milady.” He waved to the boys. “Why don’t the two of you come and help me outside.”

Reluctantly he set her down and smiled at the boys who were peeking at him from around the corner. “Why don’t the two of you come and help me outside.”

“Mind you, make sure Kili has his boots on this time,” she called after them.

The boys “helped” him cut the venison into smaller roasts for faster cooking and carry it in to Dis. They tagged along as he put the new hide into the barrel and to check the other barrels. Curing hides in the winter months took many times as long. He was worried there wouldn’t be enough cured for him to craft his mid-winter gifts. Among his people the winter solstice marked the time of the return of the sun. The days would start getting longer and spring was ahead of them. It was a celebration of hope and renewal. There were feasts if the times permitted them and much singing and joy. He didn’t know if the Dwarrowfolk celebrated the winter solstice or not. It didn’t matter because presents were welcome at any season. He busied himself and gave the boys chores to occupy them and keep them out of the kitchen and Dis’ hair.

The boys heard Bofur’s laugh and vied with each other who could get to the visitors first. They were snatched up and carried so fast that Hather wondered how the lads had ever managed to learn to walk.

When they entered the house both boys descended on Bifur with a combination of love and greed. He greeted Dis and then sat on the floor pretending to have difficulty deciding which pocket the toys would be in. Fili sat down and waiting more or less patiently while Kili, too excited to sit still, ran laps around him giggling fiercely. 

At length he pulled the toys out. Two perfectly carved Dwarven warriors with legs curved to fit on the horses he brought his last trip. There was a blonde warrior for Fili who held two swords high. Kili’s was the one with long dark hair painted to the middle of his back and an equally long beard. He held a mighty sword that appeared to be already stained with blood. The boys thanked Bifur and then ran to get their horses. Within seconds there was a mounted battle raging in the middle of the floor with no quarter given.

Supper was a feast as always with roasts of venison browned, seasoned with herbs, potatoes, parsnips and dumplings. Much was made of the sweet cobnut scones, with Dwalin and Bofur vying to see who could eat the most. Many tales were told of the exploits of both the wise men and idiots of the Blue Mountains, with Bofur taking great joy in explaining the very bad things that could befall someone who thought that Bifur was stupid. 

Dwalin loved the tales and Dis laughed, but he had the feeling that Thorin was just relieved that no one was starving. As much as he didn’t like the Elves, they had as much of a need for warmth as anyone and their forges didn’t run on magic, so they were still purchasing and trading for large amounts of coal. 

The day had been long and everyone was tired, so they made an early evening of it and went back to the inn with cobnut scones in their pockets to hold them until breakfast. Dwalin looked sad until Dis produced a wrapped package with some for him to take home as well. Hather allowed that it would be time to gather more nuts very soon.

The next morning unloading the coal went quickly with so many hands to do the work. Hather helped haul water from the well and the wagon was scrubbed down so that meat could be transported back in it. Dis arrived just after noon with thick slices of bread that held the last of the roast slathered with piccalilli that Bombur’s sweetheart had sent with him. Hather had never tasted anything like it and swore that it wasn’t true that Dwarves had no magic because this was proof that they did. Bofur joked that her piccalilli was the main reason his brother wanted to marry the lass. Bombur smacked him in the head but with his hat on Bofur barely noticed. 

Supper was venison stew with herbed scones and cobnut biscuits for dessert. Even Bombur was stuffed although he still managed at neat half-dozen biscuits before Bofur simply moved the plate out of his reach. Hather watched out of the corner of his eye as the two brother sat making faces at each other. Why couldn’t Thorin be that cheerful when he was angry?

“So,” Thorin asked Hather, “Have you a plan for taking this great bear?”

The Ranger swallowed the last of his biscuit and nodded. “It’s not complicated really. The strongest of us goes in and drives Bifur’s boar spear into his heart, or as close to it as he can get and then runs like Mount Doom is erupting. If the bear is still alive he will be slowed both by the wound and his sleep. When he comes out a bowman will finish the job.”

Dwalin squinted at him. “You make it sound easy…too easy.”

“If this were a summer hunt the chances of someone getting hurt would be high, but a mid-winter hunt with the ability to strike a critical blow point blank puts the odds very solidly in our favor.”

Thorin and the others seemed to be considering his words and he continued. “Unless the first blow goes awry or the hunter waits too long before exiting the cave it should be a safe hunt.”

“Who should go into the cave and strike the first blow?” Dwalin asked.

Hather looked around the table. “It should be one of you.” Thorin’s eyebrow shot up. “You are of a better size to enter and quickly exit a relatively small cave. The quarters will be close and first in would be best off being strong and fast.”

Bifur started talking and gesturing very rapidly. It appeared that even Bofur was having difficulty following what he was saying. At length he took a breath and his cousin translated.

“Bifur volunteered to go in. It’s his spear. He’s strong and he’s fast.” He stopped for a long moment and Bifur prodded him, motioning for him to continue. Bofur looked stricken but bowed his head and said, “And if he gets killed it’s not that big a loss.”

There was a clamor of protest from around the table but none more adamant than from the boys. Fili flung himself out of his chair and onto Bifur’s lap, holding him as if he was protecting him from all the bears in the world. Kili hadn’t really understood what was said but he saw Fili’s reaction and grabbed Bifur’s leg and started to cry. 

“You aren’t going to get killed by any bear – you aren’t!” Fili protested, his small hands fisted in Bifur’s generous beard.

Dis and turned and grabbed his hand, holding it and staring at him with a mixture of love and sorrow. “How could you think that, my friend? In all the long years I have known you never have I heard you utter an untrue word until now.”

The others were clamoring to be heard, talking over the top of one another, outraged that he would think himself expendable. Even Hather, who barely knew Bifur, was horrified. Who would make the toys for the children? Who would bring laughter when times were hard?

Dwalin, not being good at showing sentiment, simply stood up stripped off his shirt, flexed and said loudly. “I will go into the cave and kill the bear.”

The talk stopped as if cut with a knife. He stood there, muscles honed from years working the forge, rippling and bulging as he moved. “None is stronger. I wager none is faster.” When the silence continued, he put his shirt back on, sat down and took another bite of biscuit. 

Bifur sat there, eyes misting holding Fili as if his life depended on it. Kili climbed up onto his other knee and held him close. Bofur stood behind him and wrapped his arms around his cousin’s shoulders.

“We could’na live without ya, Bifur, you silly old fool.” 

Thorin rose and walked up behind him. He laid a hand on Bifur’s shoulder. “Sometimes our worth is not so readily seen when we judge ourselves as we think others see us. I wager you have seen yourself more clearly now. No more talk like that, my friend. I trust you with my life and there are few I can say that to.” Thorin smiled gently at him. “Come, sit by the fire. Let us smoke and relax and then make music. What say you?”

Bifur nodded in agreement and stood up, still holding the boys and went to sit by the fire and listen to tales of great men and heroes. If he recognized himself in any of the tales he never let on.

After a time instruments were brought out and tuned. The music session next to the fire was rousing. Hather had brought his bodhrán but his spoons were requested until he turned the small drum over to Fili and went to fetch spoons from the kitchen. After playing a number of spritely tunes that had the boys dancing and laughing, Bofur blew a few low notes in a minor key. The others stopped playing and the king leaned forward in his chair.

Thorin’s deep clear voice rang out, singing the first line of each verse, the others slowly sang the other three lines in near-perfect harmony. As he listened to the verses, Hather felt a chill. “Hunting Magic,” his father had called it. You sing your prey dead before the hunt to bring you luck.

_  
Once there was a mighty bear, big as a mountain,  
He went a-hunting on a hill,  
Looking for a Dwarven kill,  
Looking for a Dwarven kill,_

_The hunting Dwarf he spied the bear, big as a mountain.  
I need your meat my family to feed,  
I’ll take you down for we have need,  
I’ll take you down for we have need,_

_The mighty bear he reared up, big as a mountain,  
Your poor family will go without,  
For I’m here to feed on the Dwarves about,  
For I’m here to feed on the Dwarves about,_

_The mighty bear he charged the Dwarf, coming down the mountain,  
He was met with axe and spear,  
But he raced on and had no fear,  
But he raced on and had no fear,_

_The mighty bear he hit the spear, falling like a mountain.  
I take your meat and I take your hide,  
On down the mountain to feed my bride,  
On down the mountain to warm my bride._

_We sing the song of the mighty bear, as big as a mountain  
So we never forget the strong can die,  
And on the hill his mighty bones lie,  
And on the hill his mighty bones lie. _

 

When the last notes of the song had died everyone sat silently, even the boys. Even with the odds in your favor things could go wrong. They best you could do was to stack the deck and do your best…and know when to cut your losses. There was no honor to be gained by being too brave and they all knew this. They also knew that they would not let the others come to harm if they had breath left in their body.

When she felt that the silence had lasted too long Dis lifted her viol and started a lively jig. The other’s joined in dispelling the ominous feel of the hunting song. The bear had been vanquished and it was time to celebrate. Hather rattled his spoons, picking up the beat and doubling it when he could. Fili joined in, his enthusiasm far outstripping his ability, but no one cared. Any reason to laugh was a good one.

When, at last they tired, the instruments were put away and good nights were said. Hather walked back to the inn with the three Dwarves. There was no banter beyond a bit of speculation as to exactly how big a bear Bombur could eat by himself. Bifur reckoned it would be a whole one if you gave him time to take a nap now and again.


	15. Chapter 15

The day of the hunt dawned clear and brisk. It was still dark with the sun just nudging the horizon and below freezing with a skim of hoarfrost sparkling on the ground. The ride to the bear’s den would be cold but the activity would warm them all. 

Hather dressed in layers so that he could strip off his outer shirt when he became too warm. He picked up sword, bow, arrows and knives and bounded down the steps. He saw that Bombur was standing near the door finishing a chunk of cheese.

“You know Dis will have breakfast waiting,” he told the rotund Dwarf.

Bombur just nodded, but Bofur grinned and said, “He likes to have a light snack before his meals. That way he doesn’t faint from hunger before he’s cleared his second plate.”

Bombur laughed and clapped Bofur on the back, nearly felling him. “He jokes about muh eatin’ so no one notices his drinking.” It was Bofur’s turn to frown as the others laughed good naturedly. 

Bifer was already in the stable and had pulled the harness down from the pegs on the wall. They harnessed their team of draft ponies as Hather saddled Aldamir. The ponies were still tired from their long trip, but the stallion entertained everyone except Hather by displaying a series of playful bucks around the stable entrance to show his joy at being out of the stall. 

“Have ye decided who’s boss yet?” Bofur called out.

Hather waited until the stallion’s back smoothed out and then laughed. “He is, Master Dwarf. I just go along for the ride.”

He arrived at the house before the wagon and swept in to claim a quick kiss from Dis before Thorin could even greet him. From the king’s expression he guessed that public kissing was not something done by Dwarrowfolk. He shrugged mentally. Thorin would just have to get used to it because he had no intention of stopping any time soon.

There was a huge kettle of porridge laced with dried berries and raisins. Even Bombur couldn’t eat it all. Kili spackled himself to the table at one point by leaning into his bowl and then resting on his arm until the porridge cooled into a sticky gel. Dis stripped off his shirt and he went sailing around the room half naked squealing and laughing. 

“I’m a naked bear!” he declared, launching himself at Thorin all pretend claws and teeth and fierceness. 

Thorin snatched him up and stood him on the table. “What shall we do with our trophy?”

“He’s too small to eat,” Bombur said.

“Too small to keep,” Dwalin said, protecting his plate from unsteady booted feet, accidentally knocking over Balin’s empty tea mug.

Bifur grabbed him and stuffed him under his outer shirt. Bofur translated. “But he’s just the right size to love.”

They all laughed at that, even Fili who had watched his little brother’s antics with chagrin, not sure he liked him being the center of attention. He got up and came over to Thorin who lifted him into his lap.

“Can I go with you?” He knew the answer, but couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.

His uncle smoothed back his hair. “Someday you will, Fili, but not this day. Before you know it you will be grown and will be a fine hunter like your father.”

Somewhat mollified, he smiled up at Thorin content for the moment to be a part of the pre-hunt breakfast.

Dis packed along food for everyone. Hather looked at the size of the package and thought that if they didn’t get the bear they would not be starving. He took a moment in the kitchen for a private goodbye, promising her a lot of meat and apologizing for all the work that was coming her way.

She hugged him hard. “Never apologize for taking care of us. Just make sure you come back in one piece.”

“I will,” he promised kissing her lightly. “And I always keep my promises.”

It was a long cold ride, but banter kept up everyone’s spirits. Hather rode ahead to pick the best way for the ponies and wagon once they left the road. They were lucky that the bear had denned in a relatively accessible area. 

Hather started on ahead to scout the route when suddenly Aldamir planted his forefeet nearly sending the Ranger over his head. He snorted loudly and backed up. When urged forward he circled twice before obeying the command. He proceeded slowly with his ears up listening as hard as his master. A few steps more and Hather could hear the bear roar. The stand of trees and brush prevented him from seeing the fight, but he could certainly hear it. He wheeled the stallion and galloped back to the wagon.

“Someone has beaten us to the bear!” He called. “They are having trouble. We should help for a share of the meat.”

There was some grumbling, but they hadn’t come all this way to return empty handed. Bofur drove the wagon forward as fast as the terrain would allow. When dense brush barred their way, they dismounted and ran forward weapons drawn. They plowed through the brush and almost as one and slid to a halt.

The bear was awake and furious. Only yards away, he was ripping the arm off of a fallen Orc. One of the hunting party drove another arrow into him, too high, cutting deeply into the fat on his shoulders and doing no real damage. Further infuriated, the bear deserted his prey and charged the bowman and the rest. They scattered before him. He was a thousand pounds of fury; hurt, angry and demanding blood. 

A hunting bear can outdistance anyone on foot. An enraged bear is twice that fast. He barreled down on the Orcs, turning to slam into the one mounted on a warg who stupidly thought his mount would be a match for the bear. The warg went down heavily, his feet kicking violently a few times as his life drained away at the end of long sharp claws and teeth. The rider was neatly decapitated; his head flung high to land rolling far too close to the Dwarves.

Bofur had started to back away, but Thorin stopped him. “If we give the bear a chance he will take care of the Orcs for us and we will still have meat.” Hather though that might be a bit optimistic, but he held his ground, bow ready.

The fight seemed to be moving away from them when suddenly the tree next to Hather’s head sprouted an Orc arrow. The small hunting party had reinforcements and they had spotted Hather, if not the Dwarves. He threw himself sideways and down, moving too fast for an accurate count but he thought there was a dozen in addition to the ones left alive by the bear.

He knew the Dwarves had all taken cover so he didn’t waste time worrying about them. He rose to one knee, nocked an arrow and the moment he had a clear shot he fired, not waiting to see if he had a hit. The strangled scream that rang out told him his arrow found its mark. He had a second arrow ready but when the bowman found his range he heard the hiss of the arrow as it narrowly missed his head. He dropped to the ground, rolling away only to come up to find he was the target of a charge. They came barreling in screaming and waving their sword, certain that they had him. When they were nearly upon him the Dwarves rose up out of the bushes silent and deadly, their weapons eager for Orc blood.

Thorin led the charge, targeting the leader. The Orc was unable to adjust quickly to the fact that his opponent was a foot shorter than the Ranger and his blade went high. Thorin ducked then lunged upward, his sword stabbing deep into the Orc’s abdomen; slicing through flesh and armor as the king spun around ripping the weapon sideways and out. The Orc went down screaming, tangling his feet in his own guts. Thorin put him out of his pain with a quick thrust through the chest.

He was bowled over by the second Orc, taking a glancing blow to the middle of his back that just infuriated him. He regained his balance and stabbed upwards, embedding his sword deeply into his opponent’s groin. He grimaced at the sight, but shoved with all his strength, cutting deep to hit a vital area. He twisted his blade loose as the Orc fell to his knees and then toppled over. He looked over his shoulder to see Bifur ram his boar spear completely through an Orc who was headed toward Dwalin. His people were not yet out of practice.

When they came up out of the bushes, Dwalin targeted a burly Orc who was carrying two swords. Having no shield made it easier for the Dwarf to score a roundhouse hit with his long axe, cleaving the side of the Orc’s head. As he fell another took his place and Dwalin did not have time to bring his axe around for another swing. He grabbed the Orc’s armor and head butted him hard enough to stop his charge, giving Dwalin time to draw his knife and drive it deep into the Orc’s chest, piercing his armor. They went down in a brawling heap, the Orc bashing Dwalin and attempting to bite him. 

The Dwarf twisted hard and shoved his knife deep into the Orc’s mouth cutting short his invective. The Orc strangled, whipping his head back and forth to dislodge the blade, showering Dwalin with blood and spit. The Dwarf wrenched the blade sideways cutting the Orc’s throat from the inside. He died at an awkward angle and Dwalin opened himself to attack while trying to pull his knife free. He heard the footsteps behind him and then the heavy sound of a body dropping. He turned to see Balin pulling his axe free from the back of the Orc’s skull.

Dwalin nodded curtly in thanks, “ _Âkminrûk zu_ ”

Hather had abandoned his bow and was using his sword. He charged toward the two closest Orcs screaming insults and whirling his blade in what appeared to be a berserker rage. His hair was hair loose from the tie, streaming around his face. He was yelling in a mixture of Sindarin and Westron, his rage making him look like a wild man from the North Country. His target hesitated for the instant it took the Ranger to cover the ground between them and bring his blade up. He stabbed deep the long blade penetrating up under the Orc’s ribcage to sever his heart. He dropped like a stone trapping the Ranger’s sword. Hather released it, drew Faug Gaer from his belt and rolled slashing. True to its name, the dragon knife bit into the charging Orc’s leg and drank deeply. 

The Ranger lashed out with his foot, catching the Orc in the groin and catapulting him backward. Using the gained moments he wrenched his sword loose and leaped forward wielding both weapons. He looked as if he had opened his chest to attack but as the Orc swung his mace, Hather dropped sideways to the ground, his momentum carrying him beneath his opponent’s swing. It was the Orc who was now open to attack. His slashed leg was buckling, but he swung the mace again desperate to keep Hather away. The Ranger flipped the sword forward, letting the chain from the mace wrap around it. He yanked hard pulling the Orc further off balance, his weapon caught on the sword. As he stumbled, Hather stabbed _Faug Gaer_ deeply into the Orc’s abdomen between the plates of the hard leather armor. As he fell, the Ranger yanked the dragon knife free and slashed the unprotected throat, moving back quickly to avoid the gout of black blood that spurted forth.

Thorin noted the Ranger’s style and success. He fought with the same savagery as a Dwarf. He grunted approval and then scanned the battle taking stock of his people. He looked over to see Bofur and Bombur rolling on the ground with an Orc who appeared to be struggling to get his sword free. Bombur rolled onto his sword arm pinning him while Bofur was able to gain his feet and bring his great mattock down on the Orc’s face. Bombur lost his grip on the arm as the Orc spasmed and the Dwarf was sent rolling. Bofur spun and brought the hammer down for a second time ending the fight. The two rose up shouting in Khuzdul and charged the nearest Orc. Bombur tackled him hitting him low and Bofur was airborne swinging the mattock. Thorin saw they were holding their own and turned back to the battle. 

With the element of surprise lost, the Dwarves found themselves at a disadvantage. The Orcs were bigger, with a longer reach. Within moments it was a melee with the Orcs wading in swinging and slashing at anything that moved. They were more than met by the Dwarves who channeled their rage and hatred of their old enemy giving them strength and agility beyond any expectation. Bifur was using his boar spear too good advantage evening the longer reach of the Orcs and sending them either crashing to the ground or to whatever after life they believed in. Even Balin, who preferred not to think of himself as a warrior, fought with a fury hot enough to drive the Orcs back. Hather heard them shouting battle cries and for a moment allowed himself to thank _Eru Ilúvatar_ that he was on their side. 

Hather had only a brief respite. A sword appeared next to him and he launched himself out of the way, turning, agile as a cat, returning the swing. He cut upward, twisting to try to disarm his opponent. Their swords ground against one another from center to hilt sparking as each fought to gain the upper hand. The Orc was strong and the Ranger nearly lost his own weapon. The Orc was shod in badly crafted boots and Hather slammed his heel down on the poorly protected toes grinding and twisting. Surprised by the pain, the Or startled, pressure on the sword lessening allowing Hather to flip it up and out of the Orc’s hand. He ducked the swing of the shield in the other hand, pulling Faug Gaer and jammed it deep into the Orc’s inner thigh, cutting outward, severing muscle and the big artery. The Orc crashed to the ground, out of the fight. Hather launched himself away and left him to bleed to death.

Thorin grunted as a mace hit him in the belly. He was fortunate that he was nearly out of reach so it merely bowled him over. He was stunned enough so that he took too long getting back to his feet and the Orc was upon him. He rammed his head into the Orc’s belly and both of them went down in a welter of swinging weapons. The mace hissed past Thorin’s ear and he grabbed it, using its momentum to slam it down on the side of its owner’s head. 

The Orc grunted then heaved upward trying to bite Thorin. He smashed the mace down again, but the Orc rolled, throwing the Dwarf off. In an instant the Orc was on him, pinning him seeking a vital opening. From behind Dwalin’s axe bit deep between the Orc’s shoulder blades and the Orc slumped sideways, his right arm no longer working. It was the opening Thorin needed and his knife rammed between the sheets of armor to bite deep into the Orc’s heart. A final shiver and he was done. Dwalin hauled him off of his cousin, then grabbed Thorin’s wrist pulling him onto his feet. They exchanged a grim look of determination and charged an oncoming Orc together.

Hather had started toward Thorin when he saw the Orc take him down, but he was intercepted by a small Orc wielding a sword and a spear. He twisted and avoided the stab of the spear. He brought his sword up and it caught the blade of the Orc and ran sparking down its length to catch on the hilt. He flipped his wrist, the Orc’s sword went flying and he went headlong onto the ground. The Ranger turned and spun the long sword for a stabbing blow and found himself facing a huge Orc with a mace as big as Hather’s head.

He took the blow in the chest, sailing backwards over the fallen Orc. He lay gasping, unable to breath, pain blazing through his chest and side. The mace descended a second time, but Hather rolled and it hit him a glancing blow on the right side. He landed heavily, unable to catch his breath. He looked up to the big Orc coming at him, mace swinging for another blow. Hather reached into his belt, pulled forth the dragon blade and threw it with what strength remained. It hit the Orc in the mouth. The creature roared, grabbing at the knife and tripped over the smaller Orc. He went down face first like a felled tree, driving the knife through the back of his head.

The smaller Orc lurched to his feet, then came at Hather screaming curses, spear leveled for a killing thrust. The Ranger struggled to get to his knees, but he had no strength and succeeded only in rolling sideways onto his sword, pinning it beneath him. He looked up prepared for death when suddenly the face wasn’t there anymore…all that remained was stump spewing gore. He fell back hard, hitting the frozen earth and knew no more.

Thorin had come up from behind the Ranger and focused all of his muscle into the swing of his sword. The king kicked the corpse from atop the Ranger. He reached down and grabbed Hather, lifting him bodily, he half-carried him to the edge of the woods. When he set him down the Ranger rolled onto his injured side and groaned as he came to. 

He rolled over, spat out a mouthful of blood and tried to sit up, but Thorin pushed him back gently. “You are badly hurt, Ranger. You can do no more.” With that he picked up his sword and returned to battle leaving Hather gasping on the ground.

Thorin charged an Orc that Balin was fighting, surprising him with a cut to the back of his thigh. His leg buckled, giving Balin an opening with his sword. It was over in moments. Balin nodded toward the Ranger. “He lives?”

Thorin grunted, wiping his sword on the Orc’s chest. “Yes. There will be no _ecnaire_ for the dead sung this night.” Balin nodded somberly and the two of them headed for Dwalin and his opponent. 

Hather struggled to stay awake. His chest felt as if a troll had jumped up and down on it. He couldn’t draw more than the smallest breath, making him lightheaded. He wanted to lie still, but he knew that it was a luxury he dare not risk. There was a battle going on and the air stank of blood and death. He rolled over, the jolt of pain clearing his vision. He was _not_ going to lay here and die, nor was he going to let others die. 

The Ranger looked around and spotted his bow laying discarded some ten yards distant. He was still wearing his quiver and arrows. All he had to do was get to the bow. His first attempt at moving shot a bolt of pain through his chest so intense that he nearly passed out. After some experimentation, he found that if he lay on his right side with his left leg straight and his left arm clamped down over his ribs the pain was tolerable enough to allow him to move. The movement also caused his vision to double, still, he pressed onward. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty, but he dragged himself slowly toward his bow.

After helping Hather, Thorin had been pleasantly surprised to find that everyone was still on their feet fighting. The warriors among them were far better trained that the Orcs and the three miners were giving a surprisingly good account of themselves. The ground was littered with fallen Orcs, most of them dead. The remaining five Orcs looked less inclined to engage the Dwarves and the farthest one was backing away. When he got far enough he bolted leaving the others to the mercy of the Dwarves.

They advanced on the remaining four and could see the hesitation in their opponent’s movements. If you make your enemy fear you the battle is half won. Thorin grinned wolfishly and yelled “ _Baruk Khazâd!_ ” Dwalin’s bellow completed the war-cry, “ _Khazâd ai-mênu!_ ”

Dwalin’s axe had tasted first blood when there was a scream from behind him, directly away from the battle. It was followed by a second that crescendoed into a shriek and ended in a high pitched waver before fading out. Both he and the Orc he was fighting stopped for a moment in confusion. Whatever was going on behind them sounded worse than what was in front of them.

Using the Orc’s momentary confusion, Dwalin buried his axe between his opponent’s eyes, grunting as he yanked the weapon out of the collapsing Orc’s skull. He saw the others were more brawling than battling as the Orcs appeared to be more interested in escaping than they did in fighting.

Hather had managed to reach the bow and dragged it toward him. He was painfully slow in moving, cursing steadily as he maneuvered his body around to a sitting position and up against a tree for support. The effort made his vision go dark before he could wrest control and steadied himself so that he wouldn’t faint. 

He slid the quiver from his back into and after two efforts pulled an arrow and tried to lift the bow. He realized instantly that he could not balance to hold it upright and shoot. He fought for a better position, aware that the battle had changed. He was furious that he might be struggling to merely raise his bow while his friends died.

Thorin and company heard a loud snarl and Dwalin and Balin turned to prepared to meet the warg that was bearing down on them. However, the beast had no interest in them, it nearly stepped on Bombur in its haste to escape. They watched it flee in astonishment, even their opponents paused for an instant. Suddenly there was a shriek behind them and the Orc who had deserted raced into view, veered around the combatants and kept on going. Seconds later he was followed by another running Orc whose arm was streaming blood. Almost immediately a roar echoed around them.

The bear was still alive and very, very angry.

He came galloping into view using that deceptive rocking lope that looks far slower than it actually is. He was limping badly on one foreleg but was still moving at an impressive rate of speed. His face and front were covered in Orc gore, froths of his saliva spattered as he ran. He made straight for the battle and increased his pace. Every time his front feet hit the ground he made a low huffing sound which increased in both volume and speed as he barreled down on them.

Thorin took one look at the bear and knew there was no time to form a plan, their only hope lay in escape. He whirled around and brought his sword down hard on his opponent’s thigh, just above the knee. The Orc snarled and took a swing at him, but Thorin was already moving away from him.

He waved his arm high. “The trees! Get to the trees!” He was running, but muscles weary from battle were not responding quickly. His sprint felt more like a lumber and he was afraid his legs would fail before he gained safety.

Dwalin shoved his opponent toward the bear and bolted for the tree line. The Orc he’d been fighting made it to the trees before he did, but kept going through the brush. Dwalin looked back to make sure that the others were moving as well. Bofur and Bomber were tangled in their Orc, who was ignoring the bear, completely focused on killing the Dwarves. Bifur rammed him square in the arse with the boar spear, slicing through unprotected muscles like butter. Unable to stand, the Orc crumpled but maintained a hold on Bombur’s vest with one hand and grabbed for the Dwarf’s throat with the other.

Bombur’s slashes with his knife were ineffective and the Orc only tightened his grip. Bofur smashed him with the mattock, but the blow struck a raised arm instead of a temple, the force pivoting the miner sideways off balance. Bombur was cursing earnestly, but it was as ineffective as his knife and he felt the Orc’s fingers tighten around his throat cutting off his wind.

Thorin had seen they were in trouble and had turned and headed for them. Dwalin and Balin was also on their way. So was the bear.

The bear stepped on the Orc Thorin had maimed, not slowing his charge. With easy prey so close he started to roar, each step punctuating his bellow of rage and hatred. He was a thousand pounds of death.

Dwalin reached Bombur before Thorin and stabbed the Orc in the ear. The arm that was strangling Bombur spasmed and then went limp. Bombur was trying to breathe but it was hard when the world was dark and spinning. He felt someone grab him and drag him along the ground, but was unable to wake enough to help himself. He felt someone step over him, but he couldn’t make himself rise.

Dwalin, Balin and Thorin stood shoulder to shoulder facing the bear. Behind them Bofur dragged his brother toward the trees. Suddenly Bifur stepped in front of them and planted the butt of his boar spear. He waved for them to back off and started yelling, cursing the bear, taunting him, beckoning him to come to the spear. The other three refused to leave him and took battle stances, adding their voices, pulling the bear to them and away from the others.

Fighting to keep from blacking out, Hather adjusted his bow, holding it across his body with his palm inward. He nocked an arrow, took as deep a breath as he could manage and aimed at the charging bear. He let his breath out slowly and with it a prayer to any higher power who might be listening. Pulling back with all his remaining strength, he released the bow string.

The bear was nearly upon them, slavering and grunting with each step. His lips were drawn back, his mouth open, long fangs a match for the weapons of the Dwarves who faced him. His stench washed over them, mingled blood of bear, warg and Orc, stinking breath and anger deeper than the mines of Erebor. Three more steps and he would be upon them.

Two…


	16. Chapter 16

The bear rammed Bifur’s boar spear driving it deeply into his chest, but he was far from dead. Bifur slid backwards as his spear took the impact of the huge bear. He roared inches away from the Dwarf’s face, spraying him with spittle and blood, his breath stinking of death. Bifur’s face twisted as he roared back, his muscles bunching as he thrust as hard as he could to force the bear away from them.

The bear’s muscles spasmed trying to continue the attack, somehow impossibly still alive and fighting but no longer able to move forward. Time stopped as Bifur and the bear faced one another, giving Hather the opening he needed. His arrow flew straight and true, the skill of the Ranger driving it to strike the bear in the eye, slashing deeply into his brain. The spear drove further into his chest and Hather watched the bear collapse onto the spear, twice dead…and quietly passed out.

Time stopped. The earth itself held her breath and then, with a hitch, the world came back into focus, lost time spinning impossibly fast as if to catch up. The bear lay at their feet -- on Bifur’s feet – dead … rage dissolved in the mist that carried his spirit to the summerlands. 

They looked at each other in wonder and then collapsed into an embrace that was a celebration of life. Thorin was grinning impossibly wide, laughter tearing its way out of his chest and thundering over the others. 

“ _Abbad! Abbad!_ ” shouted Dwalin, throwing his arm around his grinning brother. The cry was picked up by the other two. 

“ _Abbad!_ ” Thorin echoed. “I am here -- we are all here!” 

“ _Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ!_ Bifur chimed in grinning.

Thorin only caught the gist of the statement. “Well met, indeed!” he said slapping Bifur on the shoulder. 

Having established that they were alive and uninjured, at least by the bear, they turned their attention to the others. Bofur had dragged Bombur to where the Ranger lay sprawled, still clutching his bow. His heart had caught in his throat as he thought Hather dead. 

Bofur knelt down over him and tried to find a pulse. “Don’t be dead, my friend. Please don’t be dead, however could I explain it to Princess Dis?”

He found that the Ranger was still alive and looked down at him, dark eyes moist with sorrow. Bombur appeared at his elbow and swore softly. “I wish Oin was here.”

“Aye, me too, but he’s not and there’s nothing for it, but to remember everything he ever told us about healing.” Bofur looked up to see the others descending on them. He saw the look of fear on their face and raised his hand. “Not dead. Not yet.”

Bifur dropped to his knees next to Hather and looked hard at his face and then began to peel up the blood soaked shirt so that he could see the Ranger’s chest. It was discolored a deep purple in front and along his left side. A long deep cut ran from his breastbone, under his left nipple to his side. He ran his hands over Hather’s ribs, poking and prodding as he checked for breaks. He began speaking quickly mixing the ancient _Khuzdul_ with _Iglishmêk_ becoming more adamant and finally demanding.

The other waited quietly for the translation. Bofur started translating as Bifur spoke when he did not pause. “His ribs are broken. His heart bruised. He will not die. We need the white inner bark from a willow and hot water...”

“We need water and it needs to be heated very hot. Gather _udùlikh_ …moss…from the _shulukik_.” Bofur frowned trying to make sense of what his cousin was saying to adamantly and suddenly he turned to the others his eyes shining.

“You need to gather moss from the bog we passed. A lot of moss.” Bifur said it’s what cured him when he was injured.” Bifur broke in and Bofur struggled to understand and translate. “They thought he was without thought …uh, unconscious, but he remembers what they did for the wounded and what they said.”

He listened to Bifur again and continued. “The moss will stop the bleeding and keep the wound from infecting. We need water boiled for cleaning the wound.”

Bombur nodded. “I brought pot and skillet in case we had to spend the night.”

“Or in case you got weak from hunger,” Bofur said jovially, “but thank Mahal you did. Sometimes I’m right proud of you, brother.”

Bifur rose and beckoned to Bofur to come with him. “We are going to get the moss, you take care of the Ranger, boil the water and start butchering the bear.” Bofur called back to Balin as he followed Bifur at a trot. Bombur went to the wagon and turned the ponies back to the stream they had passed to fetch water.

They carefully adjusted Hather’s position so that there was no pressure being placed on his ribs. Dwalin started a fire, while Thorin gathered wood to feed it. When they were satisfied they could leave Balin and the Ranger, they took their weapons and went back to the battlefield to finish the wounded Orcs. It was a task neither of them relished. It was one thing to kill an enemy in the heat of battle and quite another to kill in cold blood. But it had to be done, they could not risk that one of the Orc would recover enough to attack again, nor, truthfully, could they stand the sound of the wounded as they begged for help or death. It was a part of war that held neither glory nor heroism.

They dragged the dead as far away as possible, stripping them of anything useful. Finally Thorin and Dwalin approached the bear cautiously, but as they neared they could tell that he was truly dead. Dwalin approached the great head and pulled the arrow from the bear’s eye. He handed it to Thorin.

“How in Mahal’s name did he make that shot?”

Thorin shook his head and shrugged. “Luck was with us.”

Dwalin disagreed. “It was not luck that killed the bear – it was his skill. I’ve seen naught like this shot.” He looked at Thorin. “He was terrible hurt, but he saved us.”

Thorin looked chagrined and then he nodded. “Aye, he did.” He clapped Dwalin on the shoulder. “We will make a Dwarf of him yet.”

“I thought you wanted him gone,” Dwalin said quietly. 

Thorin looked back at Hather lying with his eyes closed. “He’s not my choice. Even a king appears to have no say when it comes to love.” A small smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “He’s a good Man…as Men go.” 

Dwalin shook his head at the backhanded compliment. “You’re a stubborn, old boulder, Thorin.”

The king inclined his head in acknowledgement his smile turning rueful. “So I’ve been told…repeatedly of late.” He looked at the arrow in his hand and sighed. “We need to eat and rest and then we can tend to the bear.”

The food that Dis packed was brought from the wagon and Bombur’s skillet pressed into service as Balin heaped the thick stew into it and set it on the fire using two Orc blades to hold it steady. He sat down heavily next to the fire and looked over at Hather. He was surprised there had only been one casualty and that no one had lost their lives. He thought that the least competent warriors had been chosen for hunting duty. If they didn’t return it would be no great loss.

The blankets that Dis had sent were folded into a length for the Ranger to lie on. They were placed as close to the fire as possible. The Dwarves gathered around him, then lifted him quickly and carefully onto the blankets, wrapping him in another. Chill was deadly and the temperature was dropping steadily. Dwalin looked at the sky frowning as he watched it turn leaden. He silently asked that it not snow, but you never knew if anyone was listening or not.

Thorin came up, nodded to Balin and settled down closer to Hather, trying without success, to look as if he wasn’t worried. He felt responsible for the safety of everyone even though that was an impossible task. When he worried his temper flared easily. With nothing to vent upon he sat hunched over mentally consigning all Orcs to depths of darkness black enough to terrify a balrog.

Bifur and Bofur returned with a basket of moss. Bifur had checked the water, approved that it had reached a boil and then laid out the moss. His insistence that they loop back to wash it in the clear waters of the stream had delayed them. But Bifur had resisted Bofur’s urging to head straight back. He pointed out that a life saved and then lost to infection was worse than just letting him die. Bofur couldn’t argue with that logic

The kettle of water that Bombur fetched replaced the stew on the fire. The stew was barely warm, but they were starving so it didn’t matter. It was portioned out, with Bombur surprising his brother by not taking extra. The bread was broken up and distributed and then the exhausted warriors fell to. There was none of the usual banter. They concentrated on eating, but even so the meal was a celebration of survival. They didn’t speak but shared glances and nods as each acknowledged they were glad the others were there.

The Ranger had been made as comfortable as possible and appeared to have fallen asleep in spite of his pain. He lay silent and far too pale. His breathing was steady and he appeared to have weathered the worst. Moving him was going to be a test of his stamina, but for now he could rest.

All but Bifur and Bofur rose, grabbed tarps of deer hide and headed for the bear. The theory of skinning was easy. A simple cut down the belly from throat to tail and then the length of each leg -- not a terrible task with a normal sized bear. This _umagar_ presented a daunting challenge. A quick consultation and they decided to skin what they could, peeling the skin back, butchering as they went. As the bear was dismembered the weight would be lessened, letting them eventually pull the skin. They would worry about cleaning the pelt later. They stripped to the waist, heedless of the chill air. This was hard bloody work and if they could have done it naked they would have. 

As the bear meat was carved away it was placed on the tarp for transport back to the wagon. The offal was removed, the liver and heart were kept and the rest set aside for disposal. When there was a good amount of meat on the tarp, Bombur put his back into it and pulled it back toward the fire. He laid it out, arranging the meat in a single layer to chill, then picked up a second tarp and returned to the bear. They worked without speaking; slicing, moving, and starting over. Their work did not keep them from glancing toward the Ranger as often as possible.

When the water had boiled sufficiently, Bifur dipped it into cups, swished the water around, dumped it and then filled the cups, setting them on the ground to cool. He then produced the strips of white inner willow bark and put some in the last cup. He set the cup on the fire next to the kettle. When he was satisfied that the water in the cups had cooled enough he signed: “ _Is time._

They gathered around Hather, Bofur knelt holding his shoulders. Bifur started with the wound on his chest, washing it gently to see the extent of the damage. The mace had split the skin and bitten into his breastbone, but had not broken through it. Bifur heaved a sigh of relief for that small mercy. He carefully pulled the loose strip of skin forward, sluiced the raw flesh with water to wash out any dirt, then gently laid it back in place. He carefully laid the damp moss over the torn skin and then made a pad of a piece of blanket to hold it in place.

When they lifted Hather to a sitting position he moaned. “Kill me...” he mumbled angrily. “Trying to kill me…” He attempted to bat the Dwarves away from him, but he had no strength.

Bofur ran a gentle hand over Hather’s forehead. “No, Master Ranger, we are trying to help you.”

“…doesn’t feel like it,” was the mumbled reply.

He braced the Ranger while Bifur bound his ribs tightly in place with blanket strips that Bofur had cut for him. Sitting up to hold the ribs in place so they could be wrapped was agonizing and exhausting. While the Ranger was sitting up, Bofur slid the down quilt Dis had sent under him and helped Bifur move his legs onto it when they laid him back down. He was chilled and it would help to have him insulated from the frozen ground. He was dizzy from the effort of moving and when they laid him back down he nearly passed out. He looked up into the gentle eyes that were misted with tears and made a feeble attempt to pat Bofur’s arm. “I know you did…your best…” he whispered. 

“Aye, I know it hurts, laddie, but it’s over and we won’t have to do that again.” Bofur said gently.

He started to rise, but found the Ranger’s hand on his arm. “Stay.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have to go help with yon bruin. Bifur will see to you. The faster that bastard is carved up, the sooner we can be headin’ for home, laddie.” Hather let go of him and nodded. Then closed his eyes and gave a tiny shuddering sigh.

Bofur stripped off his shirt, catching his breath as the cold wind sliced into him and then headed to the carcass. Bombur was carving steaks with great angry slashes and throwing them onto the tarp. It was the only way he could help and he was miserable. They joined him in dismembering the bruin, knives flashing and tempers high. If any of the Orcs had remained alive they would have been given the same treatment as the bear.

Bifur picked up a mug that had been sitting close to the fire and tested it for temperature. He fished out the willow bark and threw them away. He knelt next to Hather and gently stroked his cheek until he opened his eyes. He held out the mug and said something urgent, but incomprehensible.

Hather frowned as he tried to understand then nodded knowing he was to drink what was in the cup. 

Hather nodded, too busy concentrating on just breathing to answer. He let Bifur hold the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was intensely bitter and threatened to close his throat. He recognized the taste and gagged, but made himself swallow and then took another sip and another until it was gone. Relieved that this particular form of torture was over he lay back and took a shuddering breath. The willow tea warmed him, but it also made him nauseous, only adding to his misery. He sighed and stared at the sky his thoughts muddled, skidding randomly between the present and the times he’d curled in Dis’ arms safe and warm. At length, his weariness overcame his pain and he slept.

The bear was dismantled rapidly, giving up its meat, sinew and bone until it was light enough to turn so that the hide could be stripped away and laid out to finish chilling. Bofur had gone back to the wagon to drive it around the stand of trees to bring it up to the carcass. Aldamir was waiting patiently, but he would not let the Dwarf approach him, so Bofur ignored him and set to moving the wagon. The stallion, seeing that he was being left behind, trotted to catch up and followed the wagon.

The winter sun was setting as they finished loading the meat and useable Orc items onto the wagon. No one wanted to spend a long cold night there guarding the meat from predators, some of who might be escaped wargs. Bifur had left the sleeping Ranger long enough to refill the kettle, so they had warm water to wash off the worst of the crusted blood before pulling their shirts back on. 

They dressed as silently as they had worked. There was no celebration for a successful hunt, or banter between them to make the time pass more quickly. Their minds were as one and on one thing only – load the meat and get back home. 

The Ranger lay still, looking far too pale, his respiration shallow and a fine sheen of perspiration shimmered on his forehead. He was conscious and wished that he wasn’t. He thought that he’d been injured before, but those times had been a joke compared to this. He hadn’t realized that you could hurt this bad and still be alive. But he was alive and he intended to stay that way. For the first time, he had far too much to lose.

The Dwarves packed the meat and fat into the wagon and added the long bones of the bear’s leg. The hide went up last, the legs with claws still attached dangling from the bundle. Dwalin had insisted they take the claws when skinning. He also carried a grisly pouch with the bear’s canines tucked inside; a prize he’d claimed, although no one else truly wanted them. 

Bifur knelt next to Hather and offered another cup of the bitter willow brew. The Ranger tried to refuse it, but the Dwarf was adamant. He made it clear with expression and sign that if it wasn’t drunk willingly it most certainly would be forced upon him. Admitting defeat, he reached up and took the cup in shaky hands. Bifur steadied it, but allowed him to drink it at his own pace. 

When he was done he looked up into worried dark eyes and said simply, “Thank you.”

Bifur patted him gently on the shoulder and then stood up. Hather could see that they were breaking camp. He was not looking forward to having to move and even less to a long painful journey home.

Home.

That word had not meant anything since his mother had died. It had been many years since he’d had a home. He pictured Dis looking out the window and pacing, worried that they had not yet returned. He had to make it back for her and for the boys. They had made a very large place for themselves in his heart and he found that he was eager to return to see what they would make of the bear skin. 

He fixed that image in his mind. Fili awestruck by the size of the skin wanting to touch it, but hesitant. Kili, who knew no fear, running up to “attack” it with his little wooden sword. Fili sitting safe in an adult lap, wanting to hear every detail of the hunt, while Kili sat on the floor and played with the bear’s claws. And Dis…his beautiful amazing Dis, smiling and watching over them.

When they came for him Hather thought he was ready. They picked up the quilt from all four corners and lifted it onto the wagon. They’d made a pallet for him on top of the meat. To say it was lumpy and stank was an understatement. He felt like a butcher’s delivery. He bit his lip and remained silent as they jostled him and arranged the quilt. They tried to catch the Ranger’s horse to tie him to the wagon, but every time one of them got close the stallion moved away, making it clear that he did not wish to be handled by them. At length they gave up and hoped the horse would have sense enough to follow the wagon.

Bofur settled down next to him. “Let us know if the pain gets to be too much, lad and we can stop for a while.”

Hather nodded. “I just want to get home.”

“We’ll get you there. You just hold on.” The voice was Thorin’s, although the Ranger was unable to see him. 

Aldamir’s head appeared over the side of the wagon and he huffed softly as he inspected his master. Hather reached up and laid a hand on his nose. “Hang in there, lad.”

The horse looked at Bofur, snorted dismissively and then pulled away to walk alongside the wagon.

The ride was slow and painful, with every jolt of the wagon drawing an involuntary groan from Hather. 

Finally the Ranger could not tolerate it any longer. He grabbed at Bofur’s arm. “Need to ride my horse.” He paused to try to catch his breath. “Can’t… take the jolting. It’s killing me.”

Bofur smacked Thorin in the back until he got his attention. “He wants to get on his horse.”

Bombur pulled the ponies to a halt and they all turned to look at Hather. He essayed a grin that failed miserably. “Every time we hit a bump I feel like my guts are being torn out. If I ride there will be less jolting.”

“Can you ride?” Thorin asked unsure of the wisdom of the request.

“I think…I can…war horse…take care…of me.” His eyes closed and for a moment Bofur thought he’d passed out, but he opened them again and gave the Dwarf a little smile. “Stubborn…”

“Aye, you are that,” Bofur agreed.

The Dwarves held a quick conference trying to figure out how to get him on a horse they couldn’t get near. Finally, Hather patted Bofur’s arm. “He’ll…come.”

He put his fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp whistle that made him gasp and struggle to remain conscious. Aldamir obediently trotted up to the wagon and sought to nudge Hather with his nose. Bofur blocked the gesture, drawing a snort of displeasure.

“Yeah, well I don’t like you either,” the Dwarf told him. “Back off and be a nice pony.”

The Ranger struggled to sit up. “Help…me…up.”

The others jumped into the wagon with him and lifted him as much as they could so that he was against the edge of the wagon. He took a deep breath and began to speak to the stallion in Rohan, the clipped syllables calling to the horse’s war training. Aldamir walked up to stand next to the wagon. Where moments before he would not suffer Bofur’s touch, he now quietly allowed the Dwarves to lean against him and even pull him forward a step so that they could push the Ranger over the edge of the wagon onto the saddle. 

Hather slumped to the side wincing with pain and Thorin pulled him upright. “You have to find a position you can hold.” He nodded and, taking a grip on the pommel of the saddle shoved himself upward and to the right the effort causing his vision to go black for an instant.

Thorin looked at him critically. “He will have to be tied to the saddle. Find some straps – and quickly.”

Straps were produced, including Dwalin’s belt, and Hather’s legs were secured to the stirrups. He could lean, but even if he passed out he would not fall. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He pulled it close, trying not to think of the spectacle he was making of himself. The Dwarves climbed into the wagon again and moved slowly forward. The stallion kept pace with them, moving smoothly, putting each foot down as if he were stepping on eggs. After a few yards they saw Hather nod. Being horseback was less painful — marginally.

The trip back seemed to take an eternity. Hather slipped in and out of consciousness and at some point he slept. Aldamir walked carefully, staying abreast of the ponies. He didn’t care for the smell of the meat and blood in the wagon. The ponies ignored him which suited him as they were beneath him anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

It was fully dark and the temperature was bitterly cold when they arrived at the house. Dis threw on her cloak and ran out the door only to find an unresponsive Hather slumped in the saddle and a company of grim-faced Dwarves.

“What happened?” She tried to keep her voice even, but the quiver in it gave her away. Kili and Fili had come to her side, eye wide as they looked up at the injured Ranger. Kili wound his hand in her skirt and hid his eyes in the folds.

Thorin jumped down and came over to stand by her. “We ran into an Orc hunting party. There was a fight and he, well, got in the way of a mace.”

“Where! Where did he get hit?” She was trying to see his face, but it was too dark. She tugged at the binding on his leg, but her fingers were clumsy and the knots defied her. 

Thorin cut the straps for her, while Dwalin cut them on the other side. The Ranger lurched in the saddle, but grabbed the horse’s made to steady himself. “I can get down…if you move,” he said slowly.

They backed up and he gave Aldamir a command and tapped him on the shoulder. Slowly and carefully the stallion dropped first to his knees and then down to lie on the ground. Hather slid off into the arms of the Dwarves. They half dragged and half carried him into the house with the boys following silently.

“Put him in my bed,” Thorin said.

Dis stepped in front of them. “No. Put him in mine.”

Thorin shook his head. “It is not fitting.”

Dis faced him down. “What makes you think it is the first time he has been there?”

Thorin went pale and Dwalin concentrated on the toes of his boots. She pulled herself up to her full height and pointed toward the door to her room. “In there! NOW!

The Ranger was getting heavy even though he was doing his best to support his own weight. Thorin started to say something but Dis glared and he thought the better of it. This was not the time for this argument. 

“Now, Thorin. Before you drop him.” She pointed again and the king acknowledged defeat. With a glare that promised a talk later, he started forward and Dwalin assisted him to steer Hather to Dis’ room. 

She ran ahead, turned the bed down and laid a down quilt on top of the sheet. She explained that it would make it easier to turn him and lift him if it was necessary. Thorin and Dwalin sat him on the side of the bed and supported him while Dis knelt and pulled off his boots. 

She started to pull off his pants and his bloodied small clothes, but Thorin laid a hand on her shoulder. “We will finish this, Dis.”

She looked up and realized that he was right. She stood and put his boots next to the fire. She looked back for a moment and then reluctantly left the room.

Thorin and Dwalin stripped him efficiently and pulled the covers up. Hather had bitten his bottom lip to keep from crying out at the movement. Thorin looked down at him, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on the Ranger’s arm.

“You fought well today and your arrow saved us. I won’t pretend that I like it that you are here in this bed.” He paused and appeared to be looking into the distance before saying, “Things could have ended differently for us all. Tonight we will just be thankful that we are all alive and that the Orcs and bear are not.”

He nodded slightly and a ghost of a smile touched his lips, but not his eyes. “You rest and heal, Ranger.” He turned and exited the room with Dwalin. He passed Dis on the way in, but did not meet her eyes.

She came to stand next to the bed, her face dawn, her eyes red from crying.

“Don’t worry.” His voice was a whisper, barely audible in the quiet room

She brushed a stray lock of hair out of the way and then traced the curve of his cheek. “Of course I will worry,” she replied. “But you will get better anyway.”

She pulled the covers up gently and tucked the blankets in, adding another quilt for warmth. Balin brought wood in for the fireplace and soon its warmth was spreading through the room. Hather started to relax and saw Bifur coming in with another mug of willow tea and groaned. It was one thing to take it once in a blue moon for a hangover and quite another to have to drink it multiple times a day. He decided that by the time this was over he wouldn’t know which was worse – the injury or the treatment.

Fili and Kili had ventured into the room in Bifur’s wake. They stood by the fireplace looking at Hather with wide frightened eyes. They had seen him carried in, his shirt bloodied and then vanish into their mother’s bedroom. For all they knew he’d died. Everyone was grim and Dis had been in the kitchen weeping. Kili had wanted to go in and question her, but Fili, playing the role of big brother had restrained him, trying to explain that it wasn’t the time. He had no answer when Kili had demanded to know when would be the time.

When Hather had finished the willow tea he looked over to see them standing rigid and silent. He extended his arm to them. “Come here, you two. I need a hug.”

“You do?” Fili wasn’t familiar with the idea that warriors needed hugs.

“It’s been a long day,” the Ranger whispered.

Dis stepped forward. “Be careful, he’s been hurt,” she cautioned.

Kili’s eyes widened even farther. “Is he gonna die?”

Hather laughed and then coughed when the laughter hurt. The coughing hurt worse than laughing and he lapsed into silence. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Just got bashed…in the chest.”

“By the bear?” Fili asked as he pressed against the bed, trying to see the wound.

Dis shook her head. “By an Orc.”

“A really really big one?” Fili asked suddenly even more impressed.

Hather nodded. “A…giant.” It wasn’t really a fib. Standing over him the Orc had looked at least 10 feet tall.

He gathered both boys in and hugged them as best he could. The Ranger’s pallor and hesitant way of talking bothered Kili and he patted him on the cheek. “Be good,” he said softly.

Hather smiled. “I will be good. I will take my medicine and not worry your mum.”

That was all Kili needed to hear. His smile was blinding. “I be good too.”

Dis laughed and ushered them out of the room. “I’m glad all my boys have promised to be good.”

“I didn’t,” Fili reminded her.

She shut the door before Hather could catch the last half of that conversation. He hurt worse than when he’d taken an Orc spear though the thigh. At least that had just throbbed while this hurt with every breath and every movement. He shut his eyes. His one consolation was that he was alive to feel pain – his opponent was not.

Dis went to the kitchen and was taking bread from the oven. Bifur had waited until she was done and then, with Bofur’s help, instructed her on how to brew the willow tea and how often to administer it. He also explained the purpose of the moss and how to use it. Broken ribs would heal on their own if she could keep the Ranger from moving around too much. The moss would act as an antiseptic on the cut and it too would heal. 

Dis promised to do exactly as he instructed and Bifur patted her on the shoulder. She gave him a quick hug and then handed him the plate with the bread on it. “Go, sit down and eat. It has been a long day for all of us.”

Supper was rowdy as everyone wanted to tell their tale of the fight. As they went on the Orcs got bigger and more numerous and the feats more daring. One thing they all agreed on was that Hather made an incredible shot and that Bifur had the biggest balls in all of the Blue Mountains.

“You should have seen him, lads,” Dwalin told the spellbound boys. “The bear was coming at us running faster than a pony and suddenly Bifur leaps in front with that bloody great pig-stabber of his, slams the butt-end into the ground and starts yelling for the bear. Your uncle and I started to think we had a chance to get out of it alive.” He looked to Thorin who nodded in agreement, a twinkle in his eyes.

Dwalin pantomimed drawing a bow, “And then out of nowhere Hather’s arrow takes the bear in the eye just as he hits the spear. Between the two of them they brought that _umagar_ down!”

The boys cheered and Kili’s piece of bread went flying. “I’m gonna get a bow and shoot a bear!” He yelled, trying to stand up on his chair.

Dis, pulled him back down. “Of course you are, love, but right now you are going to eat so you get strong enough to pull a bow.” He frowned, and he shoveled in another bite of stew.

Fili was quieter. He continued to eat, but he kept stealing glances at Bifur, who had grown from toymaker to warrior in his eyes. 

Bifur, for his part was embarrassed and was glad when the talk turned to the condition of the Ranger. He knew that he did not lack courage, but he wasn’t comfortable with being thrust into the position of hero. He’d leave that to Hather. Rangers were better heroes than inarticulate Dwarves with axes stuck in their heads. He stared at his plate and ate pretending to be as deaf as Oin.

After supper they unloaded a good portion of the bear meat. Dis went to the shed to oversee it being placed on hooks and hung up to be smoked. There was so much that the wagon would still be full when they returned to Erin Luin. The temperature had dropped even further, freezing the top chunks and chilling the rest thoroughly. 

The wagon was pulled up next to the house and covered. The few predators who might come around would likely be kept away by the scent of the Dwarves. If one was bold enough to steal a piece of meat there was enough so that it would not be missed. Dwalin unhitched the ponies and led them to the inn. Aldamir followed behind, surprising the Dwarf by letting him pull bridle and saddle and put him in his stall. Apparently he’d decided to call a truce with the Dwarves and shoved Dwalin’s shoulder as he put down a flake of hay. Dwalin laughed and gave him a pat on the neck.

“Like it or not, we’re all in this together. It’s best you’re here because I wager things’ll be a bit tense at t’a house tonight.” He shook his head ruefully. “That’s not a bat’le I’m wanting to be a witness to.”

 

Hather woke and started, not knowing where he was. He tried to sit up, but the bolt of pain that shot up his side warned against any further movement. He lay there trying to put the pieces of the day together. After finding the Orcs it was all a poorly stitched patchwork of memory that refused to fall into place. He still had no idea where he was but at least he was in a bed and warm. 

Suddenly the door opened and Dis came in. “I heard you cry out. Are you hurting?”

“Only when I move…or breathe,” he replied. “Where am I?”

She sat carefully on the edge of the bed and smoothed back a stray lock of hair. “You’re home in bed.”

“Whose bed?” He looked around, but it was too dark to make out much of the room.

“Our bed,” she whispered and leaned down to kiss him.

Her lips were warm and her presence welcome. He remembered that, at one point, he had thought he would never see her again. He reached up with his right hand and found hers, twining their fingers together. 

“Is everyone…alright?” He couldn’t make himself remember.

“Everyone but you. They have bruises and scrapes, but you are the one who stopped a mace with your chest.” She tried to keep her voice light and not worry him.

He moved a little and winced. “So that’s why it feels…as if the entire Orc race…jumped up and down on me. I must have…some broken ribs.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ve had them before?”

“Aye,” he said ruefully. “And hoped…never to do it again.”

“Then you won’t be surprised that you have to lay here and behave yourself.”

“I will be bored, but…I’m sure the lads will…keep me company.” He looked up at her trying to read her expression in the dim light of the fire.

“Is it alright with Thorin…that I’m in your bed?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. He is unused to people disobeying him. He has forgotten that his sister has a mind and a life of her own.” She squeezed him hand. “He will be fine. He gets angry and blusters, but he eventually listens to reason. He’s even learning that he can be wrong some times.” He could see her smile. “It is a good lesson for a king.”

Hather sighed. “I do not like testing him.”

She laughed. “And I am finding that I do. I’d forgotten our old sparring matches. They were good for both of us. I have relied too heavily on him these past few years and it has been a burden on us both.”

She leaned down and kissed him again. “But it is not for you to worry about. Your job is to heal. I will bring you in some more willow tea and then be in to go to bed in a short while.”

“We…we are sleeping together?” He was shocked at the suggestion. 

“There is no place else for me to sleep, my love. Remember we have a _zarb_ … a contract between us. We pledged to one another. In the next year you were to build a “hall” for us to live in and then there would be the ceremony and a week of feasting and celebrating and then we could finally go to our home and make love. We have saved ourselves a year and an exhausting week-long party. I think when the other ladies find out how we did it; they will be wanting to do it as well.” She sounded very pleased with her logic. 

The Ranger closed his eyes. This was it. Thorin was simply going to come in and finish what the Orcs started. Why couldn’t he have fallen in love with a widow who did not have a bullheaded king for a brother?

 

Dis tucked the boys in bed and then came out into the great-room. Thorin was sitting in front of the fire smoking his pipe. She set a cup of honey sweetened tea next to him and took at seat across from him. She took a sip and watched him. She knew that he was sore, but he had refused the willow tea that she had offered. He sat there looking tired and as old as their mountain. He was beautiful and majestic and angry. She was sorry to be the cause of his anger and discomfort, but his inflexibility left her no choice. She took another sip of tea and wondered how she could have done things differently.

“I love you, my brother,” she said softly. “But I love Hather as well. Do not make me choose.”

He did not move, but his eyes focused on her, glinting in the firelight. “If I did, I would lose.” His voice was as soft as hers.

She nodded. “And then we would all lose.”

He remained motionless. “You have bedded him.”

Dis squared her shoulders. “I have. Twice. Neither time before you accused me, brother.”

“Did you do it to spite me?” He was so still he might have been carved from the stone of the mountain itself.

“Of course not. Think what you like of me, but I am not petty or vindictive. I am my own person and make my own decisions. I did not totally break with custom. I explained  
 _azlâf_ and he stated that he too would have no other. Although it is not in writing, we have all been witness to _the zarb_ \-- the contract between us.” Thorin started to speak but she raised her hand silencing him. 

“He does not need to sign a document to tell us that he will care for me. He has brought game and other food almost every day. Rangers do not possess treasure and do not value it. They place value on what they can do and provide. He has proven he places great value on me. We are married in every way but for a few words spoken at a ceremony.” She looked at him, hoping for some sign that he was not turning his back on her for her behavior.

“When he is well, you will leave with him.” It was not a question.

Dis almost dropped her tea. “Never. Never!”

She slid off her chair and knelt between Thorin’s knees, looking up at him. “My home is here. Would you send me away? Would you send Fili and Kili away?”

Thorin bowed his head. His voice was gruff when he finally spoke. “No. I would not have you leave, but a wife goes to the home her husband makes for her.”

Dis took his hand and squeezed it. “You are so blind sometimes, Thorin. Have you not seen Hather making a home here? Have you not heard the plans for the coming year?”

He reached out and took her hand. When he leaned forward she was certain that she saw a glint of moisture in his eyes. Since they were children he had hidden his worries behind a wall of anger and bluster. She mentally kicked herself. She should have realized that some things never change, especially not with her brother. 

“My heart is with you, my brother. It has always been with you. We are all that remain of The Line of Durin. No matter what my heart might say, my duty is here with my king to raise his heirs to be worthy of the name. Would Hather seek to take me away I would not go. He does not. His home is here with us – if you will allow it.” She paused.

“Will you allow it?”

“Do you think he can live with a stubborn Dwarf who clings too tightly to the old ways?”

“I believe he has already made that choice.”

Thorin reached out and caressed her cheek. “How is it that you are so wise and I am not?”

She laughed and patted his hand. “This is why kings have advisors and why they should listen to them.”

“It is still not appropriate for him to be in your bed.”

“If we were living in Thorin’s Hall it would not be. Here it is what must be. I have you in the next room and he has broken ribs. What better chaperones do I need?” She rose and laid a hand tenderly on his shoulder.

Thorin rose and faced her. “I do not believe that you are hearing me, sister. It is _not_ appropriate for you to sleep in the same bed as a man who is not your husband.”

She stood there silent. “I will not argue with you about this, Thorin.”

“Nor will I argue with you.” He tilted his head and she could see the warmth in his eyes. “It _is_ appropriate for you to sleep with your husband.”

She was completely confused. He lowered his voice and softly said, “We have broken with so much tradition there is little left to worry about. It is a matter of but a few words and then it is done and you will be partnered.”

“I can’t marry him tonight.” She was stunned. “I…I…it…”

Thorin smiled quietly and she lapsed into silence. “Humor a cranky Dwarf who aches from one end to the other. We will have a celebration tomorrow and a bigger ‘real’ wedding in the Blue Mountains if you wish it.”

“Get married…tonight…”

He nodded expectantly.

“And you are all right with more breaking of tradition?” she asked.

“As Balin pointed out to me, I have already taken a mattock to it, so a little more should not matter. If it would make you happy I would gladly move a mountain.”

She shook her head and said, “I cannot make this decision on my own. I will be back presently. But first, if I bring you a cup of willow tea will you drink it?”

He nodded just enough so that she could see his head move. Dis leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Thorin?”

He smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “Aye. That I do know. Fetch me that tea before I remember how wretched it tastes and come to my senses.”


	18. Chapter 18

Dis prepared the analgesic tea for Hather, testing it and sweetening it again and again. She toasted a slice of bread taking pains to make certain that it was just the right shade of gold. Pulling the honey pot forward she spread it on the toast and then dipped her finger into its golden sweetness. Slowly she licked the honey from her finger, remembering when the Ranger had brought it to her door. Her heart had been so guarded and she was so certain of her life.

She put the honey pot back and smiled at her foolishness. Could anyone really wall their heart away in a keep of stone and think that it was safe from all intruders…that no one ever could breech the walls. Who would have thought that the kingdom of Erebor could fall to a dragon, or that a king and his sister would be eking out a living in a town of Men. Nothing was ever certain in this world, not a kingdom or a heart.

She carried in the tray with the tea and toast. He smiled at her, but sighed at the sight of the bitter tea. He was grateful for the honeyed toast letting it’s flavor chase away the stinging taste of the willow tea. 

“How much more of this do I have to drink?” he asked when he could talk again.

“Oh, Bifur just said if you complain not to give you any until you ask for it.”

“Really. I’m done with it then?” He sounded hopeful.

“Of course, right up until you beg me to make more. It helps with the pain, pebble brain. When it wears off you will remember why you were taking it.” She kissed him tenderly a smile touching her lips. 

“Now, we must to speak of something important.” She moved her chair closer and took his hand. “Thorin does not approve of me sleeping in here if we are not married.”

“I am not sure I approve of it either, but where will you sleep if not here?”

“In a chair,” she replied.

Hather frowned. “That is not acceptable. You would get no rest.”

She smiled sweetly. “There is an alternative.” He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “We can be married tonight.”

“Tonight?” The pitch of his voice rose making her laugh.

“You sound like I did when Thorin broached it to me. But it does make sense. We do not need a celebration.”

“No we do not,” he said with a smile. “All we need is each other.” He tightened his fingers around her palm. “So how do we do this?”

“It is a simple ceremony. Just repeat a few lines after me and it is done.”

“Are you sure that you will not miss having a big wedding? I know women dream of that. I admit that I looked forward to it myself a bit.” He was smiling, his amber eyes glowing in the firelight.

“I have had a big wedding. I have no need of a second. We will have a celebration on the morrow and perhaps a celebration in the spring. Would you accompany me to the Blue Mountains? There will be dancing and drinking and everyone can look over the fine husband I found,” she said, teasing him.

“Except for that last part it sounds great.” He chuckled. “Go and fetch your brother so we can make an honest woman of you and I can get some sleep.”

She kissed him gently and then left the room smiling.

Thorin entered, somehow making the room seem smaller. He nodded to the Ranger. Dis opened the small chest on her bureau, took something out and handed it to Thorin, then she returned to his side. She took his hand again and faced her brother.

Thorin stepped forward and held out the Oathing Stone*. Dis took it from him and put it into Hather’s hand and then clasped his hand so that the stone pressed into both their palms. It was a round flat stone the size of her palm and felt smooth and warm to the touch. She had chosen it carefully, polished it with oil and kept it with her treasures hoping for this moment to come.

Thorin smiled gently at them, his features softening, his eyes shining as he looked at his sister and her intended. He may have fought against it, but in his heart he knew that she had chosen well. He started to speak, his deep rich voice rolling over them as he blessed them and bound them to one another.

“In your hands you hold the Oathing Stone. Your vows to one another are as immutable and unchangeable as the stone itself. The rock from whence we came records your vows to one another. May your love and loyalty last until the Oathing Stone itself crumbles to dust.”

“Hather, do you agree to the binding of your house and hers?” Thorin asked, his voice soft and rolling.

Hather nodded. “Aye, that I do.”

“Do you agree that _the zarb_ is to be fulfilled by your providing food and caring for not only Dis, but her sons Fili and Kili as well?”

“As long as there is life in my body, I shall protect and provide for them,” he replied. He looked at Thorin and then up at Dis. “I will die protecting them if need be.”

“Dis, do you take Hather to be your husband, to love and care for to the end of your life?

She smiled down at Hather and nodded. “Yes, I do.” 

“Hather, do you take Dis to be your wife, to love and care for to the end of your life?”

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

Dis turned to face Hather and said, “I’m going to say a line and you are to repeat it.” He nodded.

She smiled at him and then at her brother. She took a breath and then spoke, translating the lines into Westron so that Hather could repeat them. **

_  
Blessed are you Mahal who has created everything for the glory of Eru._

_Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the earth, the mountains and the hills._

_Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain._

_Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the dwarves and the seven houses._

_Blessed are you Mahal who taught the dwarves the skill to work the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain._

_Blessed are you Mahal who gladdens our Halls through his children._

_Blessed are you Mahal who gladdens groom and bride._

When they had finished, Thorin addressed Hather. I want you to repeat this line after me.  
 _  
“In my Halls you will find a house, in your heart I will find a home.”_

When Hather had finished repeating the line, Dis replied,  
 _  
“In your Halls I will find a house, in my heart you will find a home.”_

Dis took the stone and placed it on the bureau. Tomorrow it would be placed on the mantle over the fireplace for all to see. Thorin came forward and embraced Dis warmly. He was smiling, his pain and fatigue replaced by genuine happiness. He kissed her forehead and then turned to Hather. He took the Ranger’s hand in a firm grip.

“We are family now.” Releasing Hather, he smiled at Dis again and quickly left the room.

“Was that it?” Hather asked hesitantly.

She nodded. “Yes. We are a simple people, for all that you may have heard about us. All we require is the promise of love, and loyalty and care.”

“So we are officially married – and Thorin is my brother-in-law?” He sounded hesitant.

“If that is what you call the brother of your wife, yes, you two are now family,” she smiled mischievously. “And we are indeed married.”

He watched her put more wood on the fire. She slipped her dress over her head and hung it up. She kept her small clothes on and carefully slid into bed next to him. 

“We Dwarrowfolk marry for life, you know,” she teased.

Hather grinning. “I’m counting on it. We shall have many happy years together and many stories to tell our grandchildren.”

Cuddling next to him she kissed his shoulder. “If I had known that this is what it took to get you into my bed all night I would have broken your ribs long ago.”

He groaned. “Just what I need…a homicidal wife who…can finish me off…if her brother doesn’t…get to me first.”

Dis petted his shoulder and gave it a tiny kiss. “Now try to sleep. There is a cup of willow tea next to the bed in case the pain becomes too great. If you find you cannot reach it, do not hesitate to wake me.”

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” came the sleepy reply. 

Dis was up early. She gave Hather the chamber pot and took it away a few minutes later. He was horribly embarrassed, but she just smiled and reminded him that what goes in must come out and that he could never even come close to what the boys could produce.

She made a huge kettle of porridge and fetched some nearly frozen bear meat from the wagon. Cutting it thinly across the grain she fried it in some of the fat until it was brown and curled on the edges. A large pan of acorn flour scones served with honey completed breakfast. She set it all on the table along with plates and utensils, left the tea pot steaming and took in a breakfast tray to Hather, leaving Thorin to greet everyone and get breakfast underway.

The boys had come in and had been unusually good about not leaping on the bed. Kili had to be discouraged from climbing up for hugs, but had taken it well and contented himself with holding onto Hather’s little finger. He relinquished it long enough for the Ranger to eat breakfast. Dis sat on the edge of the bed and shared a scone with her sons.

“I like having Mr. Hather stay here,” Fili said seriously.

Dis smiled at him. “I do too, so he will stay here from now on.”

“And never ever leave?” Fili asked looking from one to the other.

“Never ever,” Hather told him.

Before either could do anything about it, Fili flung himself on Hather and gave him a big hug. He groaned, but hugged him back as best he could. Kili, not willing to be left out, clambered up and joined in.

Dis rose and started to admonish the boys, but Hather stopped her. “I’m okay. Come here, lads we’re all family now.” He hugged both of them with his good arm ignoring the pain of Kili leaning on his breastbone. “You can never have too many hugs.”

He released them and Dis helped them both off of the bed. “I will get you that cup of willow tea now.”

“Make it double strength,” he said sounding a little breathless.


	19. Chapter 19

Dis returned with his tea, ignoring his sputtering as he tried to drink it all in one gulp. She patted his arm sympathetically and gave him a brief kiss. “You are to get up,” she said matter-of-factly. “Too much lying down will make you sick. They will be in to help you get dressed in a few minutes.”

Hather looked stricken. “Get me up?”

“Yes, up. I know it will hurt, but it will be worse if you don’t get up.” She started for the door. “That is why I shall bring it and then leave. I am afraid I am a dreadful coward at times.”

Before he could disagree, she gathered the boys and slipped out the door leaving the Ranger to think about how much this was all going to hurt. She brought the tea back, gave him another kiss and then left. He reached for the willow tea and drank it quickly. Well, he’d had worse, but it didn’t mean he was going to like it. 

Dis walked past the table and gestured to her bedroom. “He is all yours. Have a care.”

Thorin gave her a rueful smile. “As if we would not and risk your wrath.”

“You are wise as always, my brother.” She smiled and carried the tray into the kitchen.

Dis had finished peeling apples for pies when she heard the sounds in great-room that told her that the mission was accomplished and that Hather was dressed and up. She came out to find him sitting at the table, looking a bit pale. His right arm was in a sling that, in turn, was bound to his chest. The bandage on his breastbone had been changed and the tight binding over his ribs had been removed revealing the spread of the purple bruising from the mace. He had a quilt draped across his shoulders for warmth and looked more the invalid than she was comfortable seeing him.

Bifur came over accompanied by Bofur. Bifur spoke quickly, using a combination of his own signs and _Inglishmek._

“He is less injured than I feared.” Bofur translated. “He has only two broken ribs and neither has punctured his lung. It is his chest that is…” He turned to Bifur and had him repeat the information. “His chest is badly bruised, but not…broken.”

Spontaneously, Dis stepped forward and hugged Bifur hard. She planted a kiss on his cheek, making him blush furiously. “Thank you for taking such good care of him. I will always be grateful to you.”

He mumbled quickly and then bolted across the room to check Hather’s bandages. Bofur looked at Dis and smiled. “He’s not good with gratitude, I’m afraid.”

“I do not think that any of us are, it is not in our nature.” She laid a hand on Bofur’s shoulder. “We should get better at it. Together we are stronger than granite.”

“Aye lass, that we are…that we are.”

Thorin waited until everyone, except Bombur, was done with breakfast and then he rose and paused dramatically before speaking. “I have an announcement to make.”

He smiled at Dis and Hather and nodded toward them. “Hather and Dis have become husband and wife and we would like you to share in their joy.”

Bofur’s brows knitted into a frown. He looked at them and then at Thorin and then back at them. “But what…”

Balin planted an elbow squarely in his side silencing him. Bofur winced and then smiled at the couple. “Congratulations ta both of you.”

Suddenly everyone was offering congratulations, each vying with the others to be the most florid. If they hadn’t been so serious both Hather and Dis would have been in tears of laughter. 

Suddenly Bombur spoke up. “We must have a celebration. Where there is a wedding – there must be a feast!”

This was met with a round of cheers from the Dwarves and Dis rolled her eyes. Bombur caught the look and rose with purpose. “I shall do the cooking!” he proclaimed loudly. There was silence for a moment – it was one thing to be the camp cook on a hunt and another to act as a chef. Still, he was a dab hand with food preparation, so there was that to consider.

Bofur laughed and winked at Dis. “Don’t worry, lass, he won’t burn your kitchen down. I reckon what he fixes will be eatable as long as he doesn’t make any more woodchuck stew.”

“My one failure and I have to live with it the rest ta’ my life. No scones for you, brother!” he blustered, grinning widely.

The Dwarves cleaned up the table, stacking dishes in the sink and putting leftovers in the back to chill. In spite of the level of testosterone, they were excited at the prospect of the wedding. It was an event they all agreed with and gave them a reason to celebrate. Yesterday had been grim and they were glad to leave it behind them and move on.

Dwalin excused himself saying that he would be back later. The others gathered around the table, drinking tea and starting to tell stories of the wedding celebrations they had attended. Thorin looked over at Dis and saw that she did not join in the talk. She sat holding hands with Hather unable to take her eyes off of him. But when she looked at Thorin he could see a sadness in her eyes.

He retired to his chair and sat there knowing he had made a mistake but not having a clue what it was. He heaved a sigh. How was it that when it came to Dis he always managed to turn gold into dross?

He was suddenly aware of Balin coming up to sit beside him. “She is married, but does not seem happy. What did I do wrong?”

“You have never been the master of tact, cousin. How did this instant marriage come about?”

Thorin replayed the conversation. Balin shook his head slowly and patted Thorin on the shoulder. “You really should take a wife someday, Thorin.” The king gave him a horrified look, but Balin ignored him. “The ceremony is only a small part of it, they like to plan and fuss and dream of what it will be and what will come after.”

“She has already had that,” Thorin said in his defense. “In both ways.” His mouth tightened into a grim line.

“For the one it is none of your business and for the other he was not her One, so it was a ritual she had to do, not the celebration that this should have been for her.”

“So, by trying to give her what I thought she wanted I have inadvertently denied her what she wants most?”

“How well you put it.” Balin said softly.

“I told her that I there was only so much tradition that I was willing to break.” He sighed, looked at his pipe and put it back on its rack. “I am the king. I try to do what is right, but the way is not as clearly marked as it was in the past. Things have changed and I am trying to find my way. They are good lessons for a king, but hard lessons for a brother, and harder lessons on my sister.”

Balin nodded in sympathy. “Aye, laddie, that they are. Why don’t you talk to her and see what she would like for this little celebration?”

Thorin nodded in agreement, rose and came over and took a seat next to Dis. “I know this is all very sudden and is not what you intended.” He cleared his throat trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. “What can I do to make it better for you?

She sat for a long minute thinking and then leaned over and whispered in his ear. He listened to her in amazement. “You want me to get…who?”

“You heard me,” she said adamantly. “They are my friends and must be invited.” She gave Thorin a little smile that was half way between a request and a command. He heaved a sigh, got up without a word, grabbed his cloak and went out the door.

Hather looked at her. “You’ve invited friends?” She nodded. “All right, that is good, but I must dress if company is coming.”

She looked at him half naked except for the bandage and the sling and agreed. Dis went rummaging through Thorin’s shirts and found one that was roomy enough to slip over his head and hide the sling. The sleeves were voluminous which extended the length and cuffed tightly on his right wrist, the left sleeve being stuffed inside to avoid flapping in his way. The V of the neck cut low enough so that the Ranger felt he might cut a rather dashing, if not wing-clipped picture. Bifur looked at him and thought it was well that an artist was not around to capture a portrait.

Fili and Kili had no clue what was going on but they knew that adventure was afoot. Bombur had taken over the kitchen and everyone seemed to be talking at once. Thorin had left mysteriously and so had Dwalin, although they had not left together. The forge was obviously closed as was Balin’s store. Something was happening and whatever it was, they intended to be in the middle of it. They proved to be such a distraction that Bifur finally corralled them, sat on the floor and invented a game that kept them occupied and out of everyone else’s hair.

As long as he had help, Hather got Bofur’s attention and limped out to the improvised smoke house. The meat that was hung needed to be started smoking before it froze solid. He explained how to lay down the wood and chips to create the fire. Bofur took direction and paid attention. He allowed as how he might try this himself when they got back to the Blue Mountains.

He finally got the fire smoldering so that it was putting out sweet smelling smoke and then came out coughing and grinning. “I don’t know about the meat, but I’m fair ready to eat.”

Hather laughed. “You smell better too.”

Bofur made a rude gesture and laughed. “Look who is talking, Mr. I Smell Like a Bog.”

“I smell that bad? Shite! I can’t go to a celebration smelling like swamp!” He pulled his cloak aside, hauled his shirt out and tried to sniff himself.

Bofur took pity on him. “I was but joking. You smell fine -- well as fine as any of us ever do. I doubt any of our lot is a bouquet of flowers.”

Slightly mollified, Hather nodded. “I guess if Dis didn’t kick me out of bed last night I must be tolerable.”

Bofur whistled and shook his head. “I canna believe you’re still alive, laddie. When she told Thorin you’d been there before I though he was going to remove your head.”

Hather took a step forward. “Not one word!”

Bofur raised his hands in surrender. “I meant naught by it, lad. I was only thinkin’ that Thorin must think a good deal of you to allow it.”

Hather relaxed, a half smile lightening his face. “He didn’t exactly “allow it,” but I expect that the reason I am still alive is more that he thinks a good deal of his sister.”

“As do we all.”

When they came back in they found that the bride had decided to dress the part. Dis came out of her room looking stunning. In her hair she wore the silver and sapphire clip that she had inherited from her mother. Her temple braids were freshly plaited and two sapphire and silver beads graced their tips. She wore a matching dress of sapphire topped by the soft blue shawl that Hather told her matched her eyes.

She entered the great-room shyly aware that all eyes were upon her. Hather strode forward to meet her, feeling awkward and ungainly next to her. He took her hand in his and escorted her to a chair next to his at the table. Bombur brought them both mugs of tea sweetened with honey, setting them down with a flourish.

She was aware that the Dwarves were out of their element. Weddings were not something that they would normally be involved in except peripherally, even the groom. They would show up for the food and the ale, stay for the music and the ale and finally having had enough of everything, including the ale, would wander back to their homes not to be seen until late the following day. Never being included in preparations, they obviously did not know what to do with themselves. She found it amusing, but kept her smile to herself lest she inadvertently offend someone. 

The story of the Orc battle and bear hunt was retold to the entertainment and inspiration of the boys. Kili vanished into their room and returned with a toy bow he had not been interested in since he’d gotten it. Now he was attempting to shoot everyone with the little arrows until Hather called him over and had a chat with him about bows and responsibility. After that he calmed down and let the Ranger direct him in how to properly hold a bow and choose his target. Fili found his own sword and pretended to be alternately Thorin and Dwalin with Bifur standing in for all of the Orcs. Finally having been shot and stabbed multiple times Bifur called a halt and they were all glad to sit down and have a plate of the date biscuits Bombur brought out.

At length Thorin returned, looking a bit tired. He sat down and Dis came over to ask where he had gone. He smiled at her and said, “Let us just say your request got a little more complicated than you anticipated.” He refused to elaborate and gratefully accepted the cup of tea and biscuits that Bofur brought over. It was going to be a very long day and he had only himself to blame. It would usually have put him into a temper, but he found he was feeling surprisingly mellow. He leaned back, took a swallow of tea and heaved a sigh of contentment.

Hather voluntarily took another cup of willow tea and retired to the bedroom for a nap. His pain was wearing him down, with every breath a misery. Dis helped him and he was glad to lean on her a little. She covered him, kissed him tenderly and went to see if Bombur needed any assistance in “her” kitchen. Bombur didn’t care whose kitchen it was. Brides don’t peel vegetables or get flour on their dress, so she was shooed out, leaving reluctantly hating to admit that he’d gotten the upper hand.

Bofur added some more chips to the smoke fire in the shed and checked the meat on the wagon. It was bitterly cold out and the meat on the freezing so he did not have to worry about spoilage. Bombur, pleased with himself that he was unchallenged in the kitchen was happily tending to the stove and the roasts within. He’d been pleased to find that Dis had a well-stocked herb pantry and had added some touches of his own. He had not yet confided in his brother and cousin that he was seeing a fine young lady, one who thought that a certain male who could cook was wonderful. They hadn’t taken the step of becoming betrothed yet, but seeing how happy Hather and Dis were made him resolute that he would ask her and soon.

It was just past midday when there was a rumble of a wagon outside. The boys ran to the window to see who was coming. Thorin and Hather both jerked awake, Thorin rising while the Ranger wisely kept his seat. Dis, stood up, fussed with her dress and followed Thorin to the door.

He opened it to find Lily and Maggie backed by the giant from the tavern, who had paused for a moment to throw a warm blanket over the horse. The women were all smiles and greetings while the big man hung back shyly, not entering until he was invited in. Lily carried a large bundle that she held out to Thorin. 

Thorin had no idea what to say and wisely backed up to let Dis take charge. She took the bundle, and looked at it quizzically.

Lily was beaming. “Tiz a wedding gift for you. I remembered how much you liked it when you stayed with us.”

Dis pulled off the binding and opened the beautiful quilt that had covered her as she lay sobbing in their hut. She knew it was Lily’s one good possession and she was reluctant to accept it. Her eyes misted over as she looked at the careful stitches and colorful scraps of fabric painstakingly pieced together. It was made with so much love and care. 

“I can’t take this. I really can’t,” she said softly. “It’s much too precious to give away.”

Lily took Dis in her arms, holding her tight. She kissed her on the cheek. “That’s why you must have it. Gifts must always be precious and have meaning or they aren’t worthy of being given.”

She brushed a tear away, hugged both of the women and then turned to face the man. He towered her, his head brushing the ceiling.

Dis smiled up at him. “You must be Renath, Lily’s intended.”

He reached out to shake her hand, thought the better of it, withdrew it awkwardly and then gave a stiff bow. “I am that. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” His voice was so deep it rumbled.

The boys stayed on the other side of Thorin’s chair viewing the Man with awe. “Is he a Giant?” Kili whispered loudly taking Fili’s hand for security.

“Shhh, he’ll hear you,” Fili said equally loudly.

He laughed, the booming sound sending the boys scurrying into hiding under the table where they peered out at him in wonder.

Thorin stepped up and bowed formally. “Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service.”

The bow was returned. “Renath, son of Remath at your service, King Thorin.”

The other Dwarves came over and introduced themselves. Bombur came out of the kitchen brushing flour off his front and extended a sweeping bow. “The midday meal will soon be ready,“ he told them proudly.

“Ooh he cooks,” Maggie exclaimed smiling at him.

“Aye, that he does,” offered Bofur, “but I’m thinkin’ the big lug is taken, even if he thinks we don’t have eyes in our heads.” He bowed sweepingly. “I, however, am not. Bofur son of Bramfur at your service.”

He beamed at them, dark eyes sparkling his silly hat perched jauntily on his head. He was short, even for a Dwarf, but charming and he could see that both ladies were taken with him. He winked at Maggie and watched her blush prettily. It was nice to know that when it came to the ladies, he still had it.

Dis stepped forward moving in front of Bofur who she knew would cheerfully monopolize the ladies if left unchecked. “Come in. Come in. Have a seat by the fire and make yourself comfortable. Would you care for some tea to take the chill off? After a ride in the wagon you must be chilled to your bones.”

Instead of sitting down Lily and Maggie followed her out to the kitchen to help fetch refreshments and get the real story on what had transpired. Thorin showed Renath to the large bench by the fire. Once he was seated he peered down at the boys, still regarding him with wide eyes. He winked.

Fili feeling that, as the eldest, it was his responsibility to face danger came out and approached the big Man. “I am not afraid of Giants,” he said looking more confident than he felt.

Renath nodded solemnly. “I see that you are not, but I am not a Giant. I am only a Man and I have not eaten small children in a very long time.”

That made Kili giggle and he ventured out. He approached cautiously, all big brown eyes and tangled hair. He was only as high as the Man’s knee and ventured up slowly, reached out and touched him with once finger before backing away.

Both Thorin and Renath laughed, the sound startling Kili so that he sat down abruptly. Fili helped him up and they approached the man together. “And who might you be?” he asked kindly.

“I am Fili son of Fendri and this is my brother Kili,” was the confident reply. “Thorin is our uncle.”

The Man smiled. “So you have a king for an uncle. That must mean that you are both very brave. I believe that if I were a Giant I would not stand a chance against the two of you.”

They laughed, but remained at a distance. Suddenly Fili realized that his mother was in the kitchen and took off after her with Kili trailing in his wake. 

Renath stood and smiled down at Thorin, “Excuse my manners. I nearly forgot that we brought supplies for the celebration.”

“That was not necessary,” Thorin replied graciously.

“It was and Lily would not have let it rest had I disagreed. My milch cows are still giving a bit and we knew you had wee ones. I also have some eggs and cheese. If you will excuse me, I will fetch it and carry it to the kitchen.”

He came in carrying a large stone jug of milk, a sizeable sack and a small pouch that he was careful with undoubtedly filled with eggs. His burden was welcomed into the kitchen especially by Bombur who exclaimed, “Eggs! Now I can bake a proper cake!”

Everyone laughed and Kili used the distraction to attempt to snatch a biscuit from the plate on the counter. His leap was not nearly high enough and he crashed headfirst into the cabinet. He landed on the floor where he sat for a stunned moment before bursting into ear-splitting howls.

A quick check showed that there was no permanent damage, but Kili’s forehead and ego were both bruised. Dis gave him a hug and Lily offered both he and Fili a biscuit. Fili took it like a prince with a smile and a thank you. Kili wiped away a stray tear with his knuckle and essayed a smile in hopes of getting a second one. What he got was ejected into the great-room with a request that someone keep an eye on the boys for a few minutes.

Renath smiled at them, his blue eyes shining. “Do you like stories?”

They nodded in unison.

“Would you like to hear the story of the Giant who loved a village girl?”

They nodded again.

“Then come over here and sit with me and I will tell it to you. I can’t shout it across the room.” He moved enough to make room for them to sit.


	20. Chapter 20

_In a land far away where the mountains touch the sky there lived a lonely Giant who was a farmer. He was so big that the people in town were afraid of him. He tended his fields and his stock and only came to town when he had no choice. Sometimes talking to his horses and cows was no longer enough and he braved the townfolk hoping for a bit of conversation._

“Don’t Giants live together?” Kili interrupted.

“Aye, but this one lived alone, for he had no family left, the winter chill took them one by one leaving only him alone to tend the farm.”

Kili leaned forward and patted his arm. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and peered up at Renath all big eyes and sympathy.

_One day when he could no long bear the loneliness he went to town and stopped at a public house. There he met a woman as lovely as an Elf. She was so beautiful he could never hope to have her look upon him as anything but a bumbling oaf. Her hair was like Dwarven gold, her eyes as blue as the summer sky and her skin had the silken pink of the roses in his garden. She sang as she worked and her voice was like a harp strung with silver and gold._

_She brought him ale and smiled and he found himself smiling back. He came to town more often after that always going to the public house where he could watch her. One day she came and sat down with him. The Giant was so started that he could not speak he could only stare at her. She smiled at him and asked if the cat had got his tongue. He said he reckoned that it had for he had no words for someone as lovely as her._

_She surprised him by telling him that of all the men who came and went he was the only one who never spoke to her and she wondered why. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he told her the truth – that he had no fine words for a lass who was cloaked in the beauty of summer and shone like the sun in the skies._

_She looked at him and he could see tears in her blue eyes. Sir, said she, no one has ever given me words like that. I am not cloaked in summer, nor do I shine like the sun. I am foul and no fit company for a fine and decent man like you. And then she ran off clean out of the door and down the road. He sat there not understanding what she had said to him, or why. When she did not come back he paid his bill and left feeling very sad indeed._

Fili looked up at him and saw the sadness of the story reflected on his face. Kili saw it too and pushed his brother aside to climb into Renath’s lap. He looked at his uncle and then up at the Man and smiled. “Don’t be sad,” he said seriously. “It is only a story.”

“Aye, that it is, young lad. Only a story, but every story has a grain of truth to it.”

“Did he see her again?” Fili asked, eager to hear more of the story.

_Oh he saw her again and again and he watched as her sun went out. The summer that cloaked her fell away in tatters and she wore the garb of winter…when the world is grey and you think that nothing will ever bloom again. Her step became slower and her smile went little by little until he scarcely recognized her for the Elven beauty she had once been. He thought that he was going to watch her death one day at a time. He tried to talk to her, but she would not speak. She served him ale and walked away deaf to his words._

“What happened then?” Fili asked, looking from Renath to his uncle. Thorin too had started listening and was eager to hear the rest of the story.

_The Giant formed a plan. He had to find out what was wrong – what was killing her one day at a time. He was not a learned man, but he had a keen ear and a good brain. For all his size he was invisible in town. He found that no one paid him any mind, so he listened. He had never paid any attention to the townfolk for they were not Giants or family, so he did not know them. He found that he did not want to know them once he started listening. They cheated each other and they lied. They stole and robbed and connived. They lived only for the day and took as much as they could get, caring not about the morrow._

_There were good people too, make no mistake about that. He was grateful for the ones he met, but they were no help in finding out what was stealing the life from the Summer Girl. He stayed with the people in the shadows listening and he found the man who owned the public house made a profit on the girls there for their services. He stole their youth and sold it like he sold the ale._

Thorin gave him a warning glare at the direction his tale was taking. He was met with a slight smile of agreement.

_He was a wizard of a sort because he found a way to sell the Summer Girl’s warmth and youth. He took the best of her and made a profit on it. She was trapped like a mouse in the thrall of a cat. She could not find a way out. Someone had to help her, but would she let a big clumsy Giant help her or would she be more afraid of him than the wizard?_

_He waited outside the public house until he saw her and then stepped up to talk to her. The Giant with no words told her than he was going to get her summer back. She started to cry. She was afraid. No one could get back what had been taken. He told her that he had to try. He could no longer watch her die one day at a time. If he did not stand up for her he might as well just go back to his farm, let his animals go free and throw himself in a grave for that was all that he would deserve._

_He told her to go back home and that he would meet her there. She was afraid but she did as he asked. He was the only hope she had, so she took it. The Giant walked in and confronted the wizard. He never stood up for anything in his life, but he knew that if he did not take a stand now the Summer Girl would die in the winter of her soul and it made him strong beyond strong._

_Give her back her summer! he demanded. His voice rolled like thunder, lightning was in his eyes. His fist was a hammer of stone. He brought it down on the counter and it split and shattered crumbling like the wizard’s courage. Give her back her summer or I will take your black heart and cast it into the sea._

_The wizard fell to his knees and begged for his life. I will give her back her summer he promised, but she will not wear it. She sold it to me and I can return it but you cannot make her take it. The wizard smiled and the Giant was afraid. The wizard brought out a small wooden box and gave it to the Giant. Here is her summer. There is not much left of it for I have used it. I return what I have. You will see that you have made no bargain at all. The Summer Girl is gone never to return._

_The Giant left carrying the little box. It was so small it was almost lost in his hand. So little summer left. How could there be enough to wrap her in it? How could he get more summer? He went home and saddled his horse. He rode to the mountain and as high as the horse could climb. He got down and climbed until he could go no further. When he got to the top he called to the East Wind._

_The East Wind did not answer, nor did the South Wind. The West Wind blew away and calmed not hearing him. The North wind was deaf to his pleas. It became dark and he called to the Moon. He begged for her help in getting the summer back. The Moon seeing his tears took pity on him and came down. She was taller than the Giant, more beautiful than a dream with hair the color of water and skin that was glowing silver._

_Why do you weep so, Giant? she asked him. I need more summer he told her, to give to the Summer Girl because she has been taken by winter and I fear she will die. All humans die the Moon replied. She is not old, he told her. Her youth and summer were stolen from her by a wizard who promised her much but gave naught. He told her the story of the Summer Girl and how he had seen her fade day by day. The wizard’s lies are killing her and -- I can’t live without my Summer Girl._

_The Moon looked at him with a smile in her eyes. That is what I was waiting for, the Moon said. It is what the Winds were waiting for and the Sun. The Winds came from each of their four corners. One by one they came to help the Giant._

_The South and East Winds are maidens whose beauty shames the Elves. They brought the soft beauty of summer and spring, warm breezes that eddied, lifting the Giant’s hair and kissing his tear-stained cheeks. The South Wind with hair like spun gold and eyes of sapphire, wearing pale blue silk that flutters her breeze. Reaching out she enveloped the box with her magic. The lid opened and it spun slowly as it lifted into the air. Her sister the East Wind joined her. Her hair of auburn shimmering like silken fire, her eyes flawless emeralds, her lips like crushed strawberries. Gowned in pale green she stood next to her sister and added her magic lifting the box higher, spinning it faster and faster. It hung suspended as the sisters made way for their brothers._

_The North Wind gusted down in a cloud of ice crystals. He was a Norse warrior, hair long and golden, armor woven with knotwork shimmering with ice. His wind howled and sobbed as it caught the box and spun it in a mist of snow and ice. He looked at the Giant and nodded, then departed to make way for the last of the Winds._

_The West Wind roared in blowing the Giant back a step. Unlike the North Wind he was short and thickly built with an immense dark beard tucked into his belt, his golden armor was crusted in jewels, a great hammer in his hand. He reached out with ringed fingers and spun the box still higher. When he was done, he looked at the Giant, winked and stepped off the mountain to vanish in a tornado._

_The Sun had risen by the time the West Wind bowed and took his leave. Blindingly brilliant, the Sun came down on a fiery winged steed who snorted and pawed, his hooves striking sparks on the rock of the mountain. The Sun spoke not, only reached out and touched the box making it glow. The Giant could not look at the Sun, so bright was his blaze, but he could feel the power as the warmth of summer filled the box to the brim. Before he took his leave, the Sun bowed to the Giant and whispered into his mind. Take the box to your Summer Girl and save her. Never let her go and know that there are few beings in the cosmos who can brag that they loved someone so much that they climbed to a mountain top and summoned the Elements to come to their aid._

Kili’s eyes were huge. Fili had joined Kili in Renath’s lap. “The West Wind is a Dwarf?” he said in awe.

“He must be a Dwarf because he has so much power. The North Wind is cold but the West Wind is strong. Never forget that.” He smiled down at the boys and continued his story not noticing that everyone had gathered around to listen.

_The Giant looked at the box and found that it had changed. No longer was it small and made of plain wood. The box he before him had doubled in size and then doubled again. The ugly binding runes on it had been burned away. In their place were etchings of the soft clouds that dance before South and East Winds. The corners were laced with the intricate knotwork of the North Wind. The center had a tracing of the mighty hammer of the West Wind and with the blaze of the sun at the top of the shaft and the crescent of the moon gracing the body of the hammer. The Giant looked at it in wonder. When he picked it up he found that it was warm._

_He carried the box to the bolder where the mountain had spoken to him. He held it high and thanked the mountain and then climbed down to where his horse was waiting. His horse could see that his master’s step was lighter and that he had great joy in his heart. He quickened his step for he had an important place to go._

_When the Giant arrived at the home of the Summer Girl he found her in her garden. It was as gray and lifeless as the maiden. The Giant was afraid. What if she would not take his gift? What if the winter had set in so hard that she could no longer remember the warmth of summer? What if he offered the gift and she took it, but had no love for him?_

_An anger at himself came over him. She would wear summer again and be healed and it was neither here nor there if she loved him or not. He had not done it to win her, but to save her. If she smiled at him that would be reward enough and he could go back to his farm and live the rest of his life in the warmth of that smile._

Renath paused and realized that he was the center of attention. He felt he would surely stumble if he tried to speak, but Fili looked up at him.

“What happened? Did she take the summer from the box with the hammer on it?

He nodded, took a breath and continued. 

_The Giant came forward and held out the box. I have brought your summer back, he told her. She was afraid and drew back. What price did he put on the box, she asked. There was so little of her left she did not have the price of such a treasure._

_The Giant bowed his head, shamed that she would think that he wanted payment. He wanted to take nothing, only to return what was hers. He set the box next to her and backed away. It is a gift, he said, freely given. It is yours. It was always yours, it was stolen away and now it is returned._

_She opened the box and Summer slipped out, eager to be free. It swirled in the air sparkling like a living rainbow, enveloping her banishing the winter. The winter melted from her like snow before the sun. Slowly she straightened, raising her face to the skies, letting hair that once more had a sheen, spill down her back in ringlets. Summer had returned to the garden and she bloomed like the roses the trailed the walls. The colors of her that had faded with sorrow, shone again as her world came back into focus._

_She rose and held her arms up, summer sliding along them in a pastel swirl. The gentle Winds wrapped her in the warmth, binding it around her body. The strong Winds blew winter away, tumbling it along like leaves in the autumn. The radiance of the Sun was in the gold of her hair. When he looked at her he saw the glow of the Moon in her eyes. She looked up at the Giant and smiled._

_She had her Summer back and the Giant had his smile._

Renath stopped and smiled at the boys. Fili frowned at him. “That’s not all. How does the story end? Did the Summer Girl go with the Giant? Did they get married?”

“I don’t know how it ends yet,” Renath said softly looking at Lily. “Its end has not yet been written.”

Dis held her breath and watched as Lily walked over to Renath. She looked at him and then at the boys. She reached out and ran her fingers over Fili’s hair.

“How do you think the story should end, young prince?”

Fili looked at her and then up at Renath. Suddenly he made the connection and grinned. “You two should get married and live happily ever after, just like in the stories.” He looked over at Thorin. “Marry them, Uncle, so that they can be happy.” He was so serious that Thorin couldn’t hold back a chuckle. 

Dis had moved to his side and stood with her hand on her brother’s shoulder. She squeezed gently, urging him to action.

Thorin cleared his throat and said, “Well Fili appears to know what should be done.”

Renath bowed his head. “I do not know if she would have me. I have naught to offer the Summer Girl.”

Lily reached out and laid her hand on his cheek. “You have yourself and that is more than any man has ever offered me.”

Thorin stood up a wide smile on his face. He clapped his hands together. “It’s settled. We shall have another wedding this day.”

Both Renath’s and Lily’s brows shot up and Dis laughed. “My brother means well, but we shall do whatever you want. If the two of you would share my wedding day, I would be honored. There is never so much love in the world that there is no room for a bit more.”

She called the boys off of his lap and ushered everyone out to the table so that they could have a bit of privacy. She smiled as she saw that the Dwarves were sneaking peeks at the couple. Bofur wore a smile that all but crinkled his eyes closed and Bifur had that look that told her that when their first-born came along the child would not lack for toys.


	21. Chapter 21

Maggie brought a plate of biscuits to the table and was placing them when she bumped into Balin’s elbow, knocking over his mug of tea. She flushed and started to stammer apologies. He quickly took her hand. “This is not the pub, lass. It is but tea.” 

She took the cloth Dis handed her, mopped it up and returned with a fresh mug of tea. He smiled at her and she smiled back. “What is your name, if I may ask? I’ve seen you and have never been polite enough to ask.”

“Maggie,” she said nervously. “I have been in your shop. It is very nice.”

Balin’s brows furrowed in thought. “I remember you. I did not charge you for a tin of biscuits, I believe, and you pointed it out to me. That was an unusual thing to do in these times.”

Maggie pulled herself to her full height of nearly five feet and tipped her chin up. “I may be poor and a whore, but that does not mean that I am not honest. I pay my own way.”

The old Dwarf chuckled. “Do no call yourself that, _mimel. > Among my people we have no such profession as our women are few and are cherished. It is a sad thing that in the world of Men all women are not as well treated.”_

_She paused for a moment and brushed back a lock of auburn hair. Her expression was proud with a touch of haughty anger reminding him for an instant of Miren. She was taller and a good deal thinner, but she had a bit of the fire that no hardship could ever put out. By the standards of the Tall-folk she was tiny and she was alone now that her friend was marrying. He tried to push the thought aside. She was no responsibility of his._

_“Well Maggie, thank you for the tea. It’d gone cold anyway.” He smiled at her and she smiled back._

_She started away and he suddenly found himself calling her back. “Say, you wouldn’t have any experience working in a shop would you? It’s not so busy right now, but if I didn’t have to be in front all the time I could get more done.”_

_She blushed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. You wouldn’t want me workin’ for ya anyway.”_

_“Do you have your numbers?” he asked, ignoring her. “Can you work with figures at all?”_

_She was so nervous she was twisting her dress into a wad in front. “Aye. I can figure and write a bit, I know most of my letters.”_

_Balin slapped his knee. “That settles it. You come see me 8am sharp on the first day of the week and I will get you settled in. I have a room in the back you can have, it’s not much, but there’ll be no charge.” He paused and looked at her and then burst out laughing. “Bless me, but I forgot to ask you if you even wanted to become a shop girl.”_

_Maggie’s face was flaming. She nodded quickly. “Aye, I do. I very much do.”_

_“Then off with you, it is settled.” He smiled over at Bofur looking pleased with himself. He was looking forward to telling Dwalin that he had just hired the tavern girl to work with them. His brother could be very entertaining sometimes._

_Maggie hurried back to the kitchen. She peeked through the door looking back at Balin. “He’s a nice man,” she said, still wadding her dress up._

_“Yes he is,” Dis agreed, “Now what’s the matter, you are mussing your dress.”_

_Her eyes got big. “He just hired to me to work at his shop.” She grabbed at her dress again. “He wasn’t having me on…was he?”_

_Dis pried her fingers loose from the dress and smoothed it again. “He never teases about things like that. You are hired proper.” She gave her a little hug. “Congratulations. Now take the pie to the back room to cool.”_

_Dis came out and gave Balin a peck on the check. She then looked around and did a head count. “Where is Dwalin? It is half noon. We cannot wait for him forever.”_

_Thorin shrugged, he didn’t know anyone was waiting for Dwalin at all. “He said he had something to do. He never would miss a meal, so he should be along shortly.”_

_Dis cocked her head. “If he is not here in a few minutes you will have to go and fetch him.” She ignored her brother’s glare and went back into the kitchen._

_Thorin heaved a sigh. One’s home was not always one’s castle – not with a sister like Dis. He removed his cloak from the hook by the door, but was saved a chilly walk by the appearance of his cousin. Dwalin burst in past him, giving him a look of surprise._

_“I was just about to go and fetch you.” He looked quizzically at the bouquet of greenery Dwalin had in his hand. “Did you bring your own salad?”_

_Dwalin grinned wolfishly. “It is mistletoe and good luck fer brides, not that an old man like you would know anything about that sort of thing.” He ignored Thorin’s glare. “Besides, I had a bit to do, but it’s done. Now I’m cold and hungry.”_

_“You’re always hungry, cousin. Come and sit, you have missed a fine story. We are going to have a wedding today.”_

_“Who are ya marrying?” Dwalin asked with a smirk._

_“Save your cheek for the wenches. It’s one of Dis’ friends.” He gestured toward the fire where Lily was sitting next to Renath._

_“Giants and humans, yer branching out, Thorin.”_

_The response was a quick hard punch to the bicep that left Dwalin wincing. Wisely choosing not to comment further he went to the table and scooped up a handful of biscuits. He noticed Maggie, recognized her, and gave her a nod. She set a mug of tea down in front of him and turned to go._

_“Thank you,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes._

_Balin smiled at her. “My brother, a Dwarf of few words, I’m afraid. He looks mean, but he doesn’t bite.” Dwalin shot him a glare that made her giggle as she went back into the kitchen._

_When he was sure she was out of earshot he leaned over to Balin. “What is she doing here?”_

_Balin chuckled. “You must be going blind in your old age not to recognize the other one as well.” He gestured to the woman sitting next to the Giant. “They are friends of Dis’ and were invited to the wedding.”_

_Dwalin shook his head and half smiled. “I really need to pay more attention. It appears I’ve missed some interesting things of late.”_

_Dis came past the table and Dwalin reached out and stopped her. He handed her the branch of greenery that had seen better days. “This is for you…for luck.”_

_Dis took it and smoothed it out. As it uncrumpled she recognized it as mistletoe. With its evergreen leaves and white berries it was the symbol of undying love and purity. It was much sought after for wedding decorations. She was touched that Dwalin had had picked some for her. She would have a bit of tradition after all._

_She bent and hugged him warmly. “Thank you so much. What would we do without you?”_

_He blushed beet red and mumbled something unintelligible. She laughed and hugged him again. “Why don’t you help Hather up and we can get started.”_

_She looked to the bench by the fire and saw the lovers sitting hand in hand lost in each other. Dis approached them smiling, “So, have you discussed my brother’s suggestion?”_

_They both nodded. “Aye,” he said, looking at Lily tenderly, his dark eyes shining. “It would be grand to be married by a king. Something to tell our children and their children.”_

_“We know nothing of your customs,” Dis told them. “Do you have words that are spoken in the ceremony?”_

_Renath shrugged, but Lily smiled at them both. “I know them. It’s something little girls learn early and dream on.”_

_Dis laughed, remembering her own youth and the many repetitions of the marriage phrases. “Aye, we do learn it early don’t we? If you can spare a moment to tell them to me, I shall write them down for Thorin.”_

_When the Ranger emerged from the bedroom he took a seat at the table. Looking over he spotted Lily and Renath. He smiled, recognizing them both, but was unsure what they were doing here. He looked at Dis who came over and briefed him on what had happened while he was resting._

_“You don’t mind sharing today?” he asked._

_She shook her head. “Not in the least. After all, I’m already married, I feel honored that they would join us. This isn’t Erebor, or the Blue Mountains, so we can make up our own rules.”_

_He grinned. “I think we’ve been doing that for a while now.”_

_Noting that everyone was in attendance, Thorin stood and cleared his throat. “It is time to begin the ceremony.” Having made that proclamation he had no idea how to proceed. He gave Dis a pointed look. She smiled and gave him the slate with the wedding vows on it, whispering in his ear as she explained the ritual. He nodded and smiled in approval._

_Thorin motioned for them to come over to the center of the room. Dis handed Renath the branch of mistletoe and pointed to the beam in the ceiling. He easily reached it and tucked it in so that it arched downward to bring the blessing of the earth to their union._

_They faced the king, Renath notably nervous, while Lily was relaxed and had eyes only for him._

_Thorin lifted the slate. “I will speak a vow and you will agree to it.”_

_“Aye, that I will,” Renath said nervously. He looked down at his Summer Girl and smiled as she nodded at Thorin._

_“Do you take Lily to be your wife, to be her constant friend, her partner in life, and her true love? To love her without reservation, honor and respect her, protect her from harm, comfort her in times of distress, and to grow with her in mind and spirit?”_

_He nodded, looked a bit self-conscious and than softly said, “Ay, that I will.”_

_“Do you take Renath to be your husband, to be his constant friend, his partner in life, and his one true love? To love him without reservation, honor and respect him, protect him from harm, comfort him in times of distress, and to grow with him in mind and spirit?”_

_She looked up at him her heart so full the words came out in a whisper. “I will love you forever, Renath.”_

_She turned to face him and took his left hand in hers. Thorin took a braided cord that Dis handed him and wound it loosely around both their wrists._

_Thorin read from the slate. “This cord can never be severed or broken. It represents the bond between you, the commitment you have made to one another. With this binding you so vow that you will pledge your partner the first cut of meat, the first sip of wine, from this day it shall only their name you cry out in the night and into their eyes that you smile each morning; you shall be a shield and a guardian of body and soul. Above and beyond this, you will cherish and honor one another through this life and into the next.” ****_

_Bombur brought forth two beautifully worked pewter goblets. Dis poured wine into one and gave Hather the pitcher so that he could fill the other. She brought the goblets on a tray and they each chose one._

_They each took a small sip. Lily then handed her goblet to Renath and took the one from his hand. When each held the other’s goblet, Thorin nodded and they took a sip in unison._

_He grinned. “It is done.” He turned to face everyone. “Let us celebrate this day of joining with food and drink and song so that we may forever remember when not one but two couples were made one under this roof.”_

_Dwalin leaned over to Balin and whispered; “Now if the auld sod would just take a wife we would really have something to celebrate.”_

_Balin smiled and shook his head. “The timbers themselves would fall down first, brother. Of course, you could always show him how it is done.”_

_Dwalin laughed and covered it with a cough. “Aye, when the mountains themselves crumble.”_

_Balin laughed. “And never have I known two Dwarves who needed a wife more.” Dwalin snorted his tea through his nose. Balin winked at him, got up and went over to congratulate the newlyweds._

_Thorin was in his element. He tried to remain stern and dignified, but tiny smiles stole in to touch his lips and his eyes shone with happiness. Playing the good host, he emptied the jug of wine into everyone’s mug for a toast to the happy couples. The boys got theirs watered down and Kili made a face spitting his down his front to the amusement of all._

_Dis had just gotten his shirt changed when Bombur proudly announced that the wedding feast was to begin. She was astounded at what he had managed to produce from her larder. There was herbed venison served with potatoes and parsnips baked in the savory juices along with the meat. A large crock held fragrant bean soup decorated with slices of browned onion and bacon. One of the crocked chickens had been decanted, and floated in a rich yellow broth dotted with dumplings as light and white as clouds. The platter of various scones completed the menu, barely leaving space on the table for plates._

_With not enough chairs to gather around the table seating was where you could find it, with the exception of the newlyweds who were accorded proper seating. Hather had swallowed another mug of willow tea with near gusto. His side and chest were throbbing, but he would have had to be dead to miss the festivities. He kept stealing glances at Dis scarcely able to believe that she was finally his wife. The wedding seemed like a dream and all he truly remembered was the chill of the stone in his hand and then the warmth of her hand as she clasped his._

_****_

_After the meal the Dwarves cleared the table with terrifying speed and precision. Dis was positive that her dinnerware would be shattered but it all seemed to find a place on the counter. Bombur directed traffic with his usual efficient aplomb and the dishes were washed and dried and put away like magic._

_She stood at the door observing (she hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger) and smiling. “Could I persuade you lads to stay and teach Thorin this magic?”_

_Bofur laughed, “He’s royalty, Milady. His fingers would fall from his hands if he touched dishwater.”_

_“You are undoubtedly right, but I can dream.” She laughed and allowed herself to be shooed back into the great-room with her guests._

_When everyone was gathered Thorin brought out his harp, but before he could encourage the others, Dwalin stood up and took the floor. He was not accustomed to being the center of attention and he felt uncharacteristically shy. He cleared his throat and raised his hands._

_“We set out to get meat for the winter and returned victorious with the biggest bear I have ever seen. That we returned at all is due to the courage of us all, but two of our number kept this from being a wake instead of a wedding.”_

_He walked over to Bifur who was sitting on the floor playing with the boys. Dwalin dropped down on one knee and bowed. “We are not blood, but we are bonded by it. It was you who volunteered to enter the cave and take the bruin. It was you who put himself between the rest of us and the final charge. Your bravery is a testament to your great heart and even greater courage.”_

_He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pendant he had crafted from the bear’s fang. He leaned forward and placed the pendant around Bifur’s neck. As the huge fang fell heavily onto the Dwarf’s chest, Bifur looked up at him, tears shimmering in his eyes and pulled him into a hug that nearly hauled Dwalin into his lap._

__I proud._ He stood up and pointed to everyone with a sweep of his arm. _Fight with strong warriors. Brave. Not me…all…__

_Kili made a grab for the pendant, but Bofur intercepted him and promised that he could see it later. Realizing that his uncle was speaking he became quiet, content to watch and suck his thumb in consolation._

_Thorin approached him. “You are all brave beyond telling. When the bear charged you put yourself in front to save us. You are Bifur the Bearkiller.”_

_Bifur looked over at Hather and started to take off the pendant. _Belongs Ranger. He kill.__

_Dwalin smiled. “Yes, but he could not have made the shot if you had not held the bear.” He reached in his pocket and placed the second pendant in Bifur’s hand. “You give it to him.”_

_Bifur walked over to where Hather was sitting and bowed. When he looked up he was smiling. _Hunt as good as Dwarf. Strong. Brave._ He slid the pendant over Hather’s head and then took the fang in his hand. He squeezed it. _Bear make us brothers.__

_Hather looked to Bofur, who quickly translated, pride written in bold strokes across his features. The Ranger looked back at the Dwarf and placed his hand over the one holding the fang. “Brothers of the Bear.”_

_Bifur looked at him for a long moment. Still holding the pendant, he slammed his fist against his chest and then reached out and placed his hand on Hather’s shoulder. _Brothers. Is good.__

_Hather nodded. He looked at Bofur. “What is Khuzdul for “brothers of the bear?”_

_Bofur smiled gently. “ _Amagur nadadel._ ”_

_The Ranger squeezed tighter, binding both their hands with the fang. “That is us, my friend. _Amagur nadadel._ ”_

_Thorin stepped next to Dwalin and squeezed his shoulder, thanking him for the gift of the pendants. Dwalin ducked his head, cheeks flaming. He never could take a compliment, spoken or not. Thorin squeezed again and then went to pick up his harp and strike a cord._

_“A toast is in order to honor our heroes,” he said to the quiet room. “We all got more than we expected yesterday. We all gave more than we expected to have to give yesterday.”_

_Empty mugs were hastily filled and then raised high. “To the Brothers of the Bear!”_

_When the mugs were lowered, Hather rose slowly and turned to Dis. He slowly lifted his glass to her. “And to the one who waited behind and prayed for our safety. Without her there would be no reason to return.” She looked up at him, blue eyes blazing with pride and love._

_She took a sip and then raised her own toast. “To us all. We are all strong and fight for those we love.”_

_The Ranger drank to her toast, resisting the urge to kiss her as he knew it would embarrass her terribly and he would have died rather than do that. He sat down and bent close whispering his love for her. She blushed prettily while everyone pretended that they did not see._

_The boys came over and admired the fang, whispering about how big the bear must have been. Hather promised them both that they could take turn wearing it later after the party was over._

_Bofur pulled out his whistle and played the chorus of a tune he’d learned in one of the towns of Men. It was a jig called “The Bear Hunter” and its catchy progression sent the others in search of their own instruments._

_Lily and Maggie proved to have sweet soprano voices and they favored the Dwarves with several songs, one of which was bawdy enough to have Dis alternately frowning and giggling. Renath, for his part, firmly stated that he used his singing to keep the animals from his crops and told the boys that he hand once sung an Orc to death. Fili didn’t believe him, but Kili spent the rest of the afternoon giving him unsure glances whenever a new song started._

_The rest of the day passed in song and merriment with frequent breaks for nourishment and drink. When Dwarven and human bodies could no longer stand the strain, it was time to end the best party any of them could ever remember attending. Food was packed up, Thorin himself going out to pull choice cuts of bear meat from the wagon to send home with Lily and Renath._

_As Lily started to leave, Dis stopped her. She removed her soft blue shawl and wrapped it around her friend’s shoulders. “Blue is the color of good fortune. Every bride should have good fortune on her wedding day.”_

_Lily’s eyes filled. “I can’t take your shawl, Dis.” She made a motion to give it back, but Dis reached out and stayed her hands._

_“It is a gift from my heart to yours.” Dis stood tiptoe and kissed Lily on the cheek. “Friends are treasures and must be cherished. Think of me when you wear it. I will think of it keeping you warm and perhaps, in time, a wee babe as well.”_

_Lily swept her up into a fierce hug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you. Manwë must have been looking out for me.”_

_“And me,” Dis added. “Now run along with your husband and I shall go and tend to mine.” She looked back to see Hather smiling at her with a rather besotted expression. “They can’t do without us, you know,” she whispered._

_Lily laughed. “No they can’t.” She gave Dis another hug. “I will see you soon.”_

_When Thorin came back into the great room he was about to take his chair, Hather stopped him. “I’d like a word with you, Thorin.”_

_The others prepared to leave, but he turned to them and said, “Please stay. Since I am now part of this family, what I am about to say concerns us all.”_

_Dis’ smile faded and she made as if to go to her husband. The Ranger put up his hand staying her._

_He looked at Thorin and bowed his head. “This has been too long in coming. Like most Men I am too proud and sometimes too stupid to do what needs to be done.”_

_Thorin stared at Hather from the tops of his eyes, puzzled and not at all certain he was going to like what the Ranger was going to say. He remained silent waiting, as did the other Dwarves._

_Hather took one step back and dropped slowly and painfully to one knee. His head was bent, his shoulders rounded. His long hair cascaded forward hiding his expression. He remained there for a long moment during which no one seemed to breathe._

_“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, I pledge my loyalty and my life to you as my king and monarch. None but you may command me. I will bend a knee to no other as long as I shall live. If by dying I may serve you then I pledge to do so.”_

_Thorin was stunned for a moment. He looked down at the kneeling Ranger and then straightened his shoulders, assuming the mantle of King. His voice was rich and deep as it rang in the little house. “Hather, Ranger of the Dúnedain. I accept your service and your pledge. I command you to serve me by pledging the safety of my sister and my heirs.” He paused dramatically. “Do you so pledge?”_

_“I do,” Hather said forcefully._

_“Then arise and take your place with the Heirs of Durin.”_

_The Ranger stood slowly and painfully, but under his own power, although Thorin looked to him to assist if necessary. When he had risen he looked over at Dis, who was still wearing a look of happy bemusement. The Dwarves recovered faster than she did and gave a rousing cheer that sent the boys racing around the room screaming with excitement._

_Tankards were filled with the last of the ale and raised in a toast. Hather looked over at his brother-in-law and king. “So are you going to obey my every command?” Thorin asked, his blue eyes twinkling._

_Hather grinned and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”_

_Thorin’s laugher boomed deep and rich. “Then I have much to look forward to, for I have secured a worthy opponent.”_

_Dis looked at them and shook her head. It was amazing how so many lives had changed just because a knife had needed repair. The world did indeed work in wonderful and mysterious ways._

**Author's Note:**

> ** Note: paraphrase of Or Hi Parra 800 year-old drinking song  
> *** Go kiss an Orc.  
> **** Wedding vow from Finn Mac Cool by Morgan Llywelyn
> 
> 95% of this was written to the music of Steve McDonald's album “Sons of Somerled”  
> Bar fight: Great Big Sea for the bar fight: “The Night Paddy Murphy Died”  
> Battle: Flogging Molly’ “No More-Paddy’s Lament” 
> 
> This started as a short story...don't they all. I've learned how to skin a bear, smoke bear and venison, preserve meat the Iron Age way, what foods could be gleaned from the wild (not that many so I did use potatoes which would not have been discovered yet -- Mr. Tolkien;) I also learned enough about herbal medicine and treating severe wounds to make me deeply appreciate my medicine cabinet and my doctor. I did tons of research for everything, but not all of my questions were appreciated at the online forums. (You get some strange looks when you are on a medical forum and ask how badly you can injure someone and still have them able to shoot a bow.) It was fun to write and every time I made Dis smile I smiled too. 
> 
>  
> 
> I want to thank Ceallaig for being my beta reader and proofer for this beast. Since she's also in the midst of writing a long story she went above and beyond the call of duty with this one.


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